


A Man Called Pup

by Brennah_K



Category: Batman - Fandom, Criminal Minds, NCIS
Genre: AU, BDSM, Blanket Permission, Character Death, F/M, Forced Relationship, Forced puppy behavior/play, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Non-graphic Non-con and Abuse, Kidnapping, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, OOC!Tony, Perpetually Grumpy Gibbs, Recovery, Ron Sacks is a !@!$, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jethro Gibbs had once believed he could count the number of truly life-changing events he'd experienced on the fingers of one hand: his mother's death, meeting Shannon, Kelly's birth, his girls' deaths, and meeting Tobias Fornell.... Then he met Tony DiNozzo, a kidnapped and abused orphan, raised under the warped care of the hired killer who had liberated him from his kidnappers – and every day became a life-changing experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Probationary agent Jethro Gibbs paused as he was sliding his sig sauer in its holster to listen to the ZNN update of a case that had been monopolizing the airwaves for the last three months. 

“With the discovery of Gabrielle Montegna's body washed ashore in Oahu, Hawaii, both the Federal Bureau of Investigations and the Hawaii State Police have officially closed the DiNozzo Kidnapping investigation – stating that discovery of the dumped body of the child's au pair, the fact that there have been no reliable sightings and that - to date - the kidnappers had made no attempt to contact the child's father with ransom demands are strong indicators that both the child and the nanny were killed and dumped off the coast of Oahu, presumably in revenge – either for one of DiNozzo Senior's scams or related to the family's loose ties through the child's late mother Juliana DiGabretsi DiNozzo to the DiGabretsi crime family.”

“Nine year-old Anthony DiNozzo and his au pair twenty-two year-old Gabrielle Montegna were last-seen on March 15th, in the Presidential suite of the Oahu Hilton, where Anthony DiNozzo had abandoned them to attend a business meeting on the mainland. Their absence was only discovered the following week when the concierge called DiNozzo Senior to inquire whether the man wanted to continue to use the suite, which had appeared unoccupied for the majority of the week between...”

The ZNN report was suddenly interrupted by a jarring ring that drew Gibbs attention. Slapping the tv off with a snap of his hand and shoving his sig into the holster, he grabbed up his badge and rushed to the phone by the door. 

“Gibbs, here” He answered, certain that he knew whose voice would be on the other line. 

“Get your ass in here, Probie, we've caught a case.” Senior Agent Mike Franks bark rang in his ears. 

“On my way, Boss.”

\---

David Cain smiled as he glanced through the scope at the man who was clearly sleeping off his drinking spree from the previous evening. DiNozzo was slumped in his office chair, the shot glass still in his hand and a half-empty bottle of whiskey overturned on the desk blotter. 

Pulling his brief case closer, he flipped the latches on each end and slowly lifted the lid just high enough that he could press the button that would disarm the case. Waiting for it to beep three times, he pushed the button again, then lifted it the rest of the way. With it finally open, he pulled the receiver of the battery operated phone from its slot and punched in the man's private number. 

The phone rang for several minutes without response, though DiNozzo shifted on his arms, dropping the glass and knocking the whiskey bottle off the desk. 

Shaking his head at the man's sloth, David waited several minutes and dialed again. When his second attempt barely roused the man, David hung up, activated the intercom feature, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets, settling in to wait as he punched the button that would set the phone to automatic redial. 

By the fifth attempt, the hung-over man cursed into the phone as he picked it up demanding to know who was calling. 

“Vincenzo sends his greetings.” David answered softly before pulling the trigger. 

Almost simultaneously, he heard the shatter of glass from the phone as the M21's stock kicked into his shoulder. In his sights, a small red dot appeared off center the drunken man's temple and dropped back to the desk, and David lowered the rifle with a satisfied smile. 

He dialed another number and left a brief message to watch the evening's news, then hung up and began to break the rifle down. Stowing it in the second briefcase, David stripped off his gloves and tucked them in his pocket, removed the ticket to Hawaii from the second case, then tapped the buttons to arm both valise and closed their lids, careful to see that they latched simultaneously. 

Three days later, the news was still regurgitating reports of DiNozzo Senior's violent and unexpected death, following the presumed death of his son, and the death a year earlier of his wife, Juliana... as David scanned the room of a run-down beach bungalow, where he'd tracked the man who'd received a $5,000 down-payment, from DiNozzo Senior, four months before DiNozzo had taken the child and his mistress, the child's presumed au pair, to Hawaii. 

The man, Craig Dunleavy was sitting casually on the couch completely ignoring the actions of the room's two other occupant's – despite the fact that they were sitting right beside him on the couch... Or rather one was on the couch, and the other was sitting astride the second man's lap, held in place by a choke chain wrapped around the man's fist, and sobbing harshly as he was forced to watch the news. David recognized the second man as the bungalow owner's son, whom he had spoken with the day before when the younger man had shown him to another bungalow, half a mile down the beach.

He considered the scene for several seconds, before deciding on a different course of action. His original plan had been similar to how he'd handled DiNozzo: calling to deliver DiGabretsi's greetings, then delivering a soft three tap – one to each lung and one to the gut. Unlike DiNozzo's death, Dunleavy's death, per orders, was to as long and painful as possible in revenge for the terror DiNozzo's child had suffered before his presumed death. DiGabretsi may have rightfully earned the title “Butcher” but he drew a line at hurting women and children. 

David, himself, didn't make such arbitrary distinctions, but neither was he inclined to ignore an opportunity when it presented itself.

Still stinging over his daughter, Cassandra's, abandonment (the child having chosen to run away, instead of performing the tasks she had been trained for), David had wondered many times whether Cassandra would have been more loyal if she had better understood how harsh life could be and what his protection and approval were worth. 

The child in front of him had clearly experienced the first lesson and was still young enough to be tractable and obedient. The only matter that remained was to wait for the right moment to retrieve the boy. Watching how Dunleavy and the bungelow owner's son were interacting with the child, David was certain that it wouldn't be a long wait before he could step in and ensure the boy understood - from the start - what David's protection and approval were worth, and anyways -

If the child didn't learn that particular lesson, well... the world already thought that Anthony DiNozzo was dead.


	2. Oh, That Foreboding Feeling

David woke to the pungent aroma of espresso as it was placed on his bedside table by his pup, who fell swiftly to his knees when he felt David's eyes settle on him. 

From the warm lassitude and sated feeling settling over him, as he sat up to retrieve his coffee, David knew that the young man had seen to his other needs as well... his ever obedient pet. 

Resting back against the pillows his pup had put in place for him before waking him up, David studied the prostrate form of the young man whom had been with him now for twenty-five years. Tony DiNozzo had been both his greatest success and his most profound failure, though a failure he had come to terms with and turned into a profitable situation. 

DiNozzo had proven unerringly loyal, obedient, intelligent, responsive, attentive, and the perfect pupil that David had always sought - in all but one sense. Intent, adept, swift to learn, and diligent in practice, facilely picking up how to fight and kill in every manner and form that David himself could, Tony would have even paralleled his daughter in skill if they had ever been matched. While his daughter possessed the ability to read an opponent's intentions from their body language, Tony possessed the opposite ability to suppress his body language so completely that he had even surprised David, himself, at times.

He only possessed one flaw; though - in David's opinion- it was a fatal flaw: Tony possessed neither the natural instinct nor innate willingness to kill, and nothing that David tried had been able to overcome that reluctance. 

It had even reached the point, when the boy was thirteen, and David was frustrated in his dealings with Rhas Al Ghul, that David had strongly considered discarding Tony for that weakness, not wanting to divide his attentions on two fronts when his lethal ally appeared to be turning into an enemy. 

Ironically, the very same week, Al Ghul had sent two of his pawns to kill the child as a warning to David, a catalytic event that ultimately caused David to rethink his plans for the child who would never be an assassin. Had Al Ghul not done so, David himself might have soon taken the boy to the docks, injected him with an overdose, and let the child slip away into death. Breaking his neck might have been kinder, but he had developed some affection for the boy and hadn't wanted to feel the boy's fragile bones shatter under his grip. 

Instead, true to their training, Al Ghul's men had slipped into David's home using the very same vents and conduits that David had intended to use, himself, as unexpected escape exits if his location were ever betrayed to any of the various law enforcement agencies who might have an interest in his activities... unaware that the child was not sleeping but had seen their entrance and had misunderstood their decision (to subdue David before killing the child in front of him) as a threat to his master instead of himself.

Turning their backs on the child they'd thought to be sleeping had been the last mistake the two men would ever make, and that evening David had given Tony a practical lesson in the most efficient and clean methods of disposing of deceased targets. It seemed that while Tony would not initiate an active assault, unprovoked, in defense of the man that he had been trained to perceive as his liberator and master, Tony was quite capable of putting David's most lethal methods into practice. In one fell swoop, David's intended role for Tony had switched from protege and future successor to trained guard dog: a change that close to twenty years later, David still did not regret. 

Snapping his fingers to draw the younger man's attention, David patted the bed beside him, smiling as Tony scrambled onto the bed beside him and returned to his prostrate position. 

“Good boy.” David complimented with a smile when Tony shivered in response to the hand running from the back of his neck to the small of his back. His pup well-understood the value of his approval and constantly worked to achieve it. 

“I have a surprise for you, Pup.” He continued, not waiting for nor expecting a response. “It's a special day for us. Twenty-five years ago, I found a special young pup on the end of another man's choke chain and decided to keep him for my own.”

Tony froze under David's stroking, before he pressed himself closer to David's hip as he often did when reminded of his abduction and traumatizing assault. 

“It was the best decision I think I've ever made.” David murmured, “and I've bought you a little something to celebrate it.”

Tony's cheek rubbed against his knee, and he chuckled at the show of gratitude. 

“There is a white envelope in the bottom drawer of the Barcelona, fetch it.” David sent Tony scrambling off the bed with a slap on his hip and watched as he mindfully took the steps to disarm the charge in the tall chest of drawers, retrieved the package, and returned to kneel at his feet, the edge of the package lightly clasped between his lips. David patted Tony's head, before taking the envelope, and flicked his fingers in the gesture that ordered Tony to kneel up off his heels. After ripping the package open, he pulled out a sheet of foam and tipped it to show the new collar and cuffs he'd had commissioned. 

Gesturing for Tony's right hand, David ran his finger over a raw patch at the edge of his long wrist cuff drawing Tony's attention to it. 

“It hasn't escaped my notice that your continued diligence in the weight room has resulted in your current set chafing.” 

There had never been a word or murmur of complaint from Tony, but he had never expected there to be; Tony having never spoken again after David ordered him to silence if he wished to be taken out of the Hawaiian bungalow, those many years ago. Nevertheless, it hadn't escaped David's notice, that Tony had recently begun to clutch his wrists to his chest in his sleep. 

As he exchanged the older titanium cuffs for their updated versions, David pointed out the bar attached to the thin steel garrote, the embedded gps chip, and a press switch for the apartment's blue-tooth system. The blue-tooth's receiver was similarly embedded in the ornate eternity collar, and though Tony would not need the speaker portion, it would allow David to listen in, should Tony trigger the device. Before securing it around Tony's neck, he showed his pet the final feature, one of ornate leaves at the front of the collar, where it dipped at the hollow of his throat, could be slid aside; Tony didn't even raise an eyebrow when he dropped the tiny arsenic-daturi tablet into place. David wasn't surprised at that, however. 

They had practiced him taking the 'sleeping pill' in routine drills on and off throughout the year, every year since he'd taken the boy. The practice pills had invariably been true sleeping pills, identical to the suicide pills, that he would switch out at random intervals over the weeks so that the boy would never know which was which, if he did realize, in fact, that the intended pill was a suicide tablet. David was certain that he did, but had never questioned Tony, not certain whether or not, it would be better to confirm any suspicions that the younger man might have. 

When they locked were in place, David ordered, “fetch the weller.” 

Although he had never soldiered any of Tony's other collars into place, David had felt, from the moment he had placed the order for the collar and cuffs, that it would be the last collar he'd ever place on Tony. Though he wasn't often given to sentimentality, he was well aware that with age, his reflexes were slowing, and his list of enemies was not growing any shorter. One day, he would miss or find himself in another's sights, perhaps even Cassandra's... if it was Tony's last collar, David would be certain it wasn't going to be easily removed. 

When the collar and cuffs were finally secured, David sat staring at his pet in deep contemplation, a feeling of calm foreboding coming to the forefront of his thoughts as he watched the younger man. Several minutes passed with Tony's head resting on his knee, his soft close-cut hair soothing David's fingers as the assassin lost himself in thought. 

His pup's fate was in the front of his thoughts, and David couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was going to happen would happen that day, on their anniversary, and would change the young man's future – whether for better or worse he couldn't say, but the younger man's life would drastically change.

He considered all of the likely threats and the range of possible responses, closing his eyes as he came to a decision, and patted Tony on his shoulder in a silent order to lift his head. 

“Fetch my cases, Pup, I have a job to do, but when I return, we'll do something special to celebrate.” 

\--- 

Timothy McGee can't help but breath a sigh of relief as he steps out of the elevator to see Kate at her desk. His vacation and her medical leave were both up, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding he'd had since Ducky had cleared her to return to work. During the entire time, she'd been at home recovering from her bout with the y.pestis virus, he hadn't let her out of his sight, and having to let her drive in to work on her own had nearly killed him when they had parted with a kiss that morning. 

Carefully lifting his steps before he had fully settled them, Tim approached her as quietly as he could and glanced over the petition behind her to check out what she was drawing. As confident as she was about her artistic ability when it came to sketching suspects, when she was drawing for personal pleasure, Kate was incredibly reticent about sharing her drawings, even with him. 

“Is that Dr. Pitt?” he asked, curiously. 

“No!” she answered in a hushed whisper, even as she flipped the cover back over her notebook and slipped it into her desk. 

“Are you sure? It really looked...” He wouldn't have minded if it was; he was confident in their partnership and relationship, and thought if there was anyone it would be completely understandable to have an adult crush on, it would be the doctor who saved you from the Black Plague. 

Despite his assurances that he didn't feel threatened by her friendship with the doctor, though, Kate had still felt uncomfortable with any mention of their friendship in front of Tim. 

“No,” she snapped, shoving the drawer closed before turning on him with a glare, “Are you going to be hovering over me all week?”

“Or, are you going to let me do my job?!?” She demanded sharply.

“Uh... no, I was just... I just wanted to check and see that everything was okay.”

“For god's sake, Tim, we just saw each other twenty...” she paused and glanced up at the clock before finishing, “eight minutes ago, did you think that I'd have a sudden remission on my first day back... just from sitting at my desk?”

“No, but...” He shifted awkwardly under her glare.

“But ?!?”

“Kate, you … you almost died.”

“We’re NCIS Agents, Tim, there’s a chance one of us might die every time we walk through the door.”

“Yeah, but I’m the idiot who handed you the envelope filled with plague,” he sighed. 

That was what had been weighing on his mind the most, that the despite the fact that the booby-trapped envelope had made it through both the post-office's and the NCIS irradiation and biological agent procedures, the envelope had ended up in her hands – solely because he had been trying to tease her and make her just the slightest bit jealous at the thought of him receiving a love note from an anonymous admirer. 

“God, Tim, I thought we'd been over this already, there was no reason to suspect anything was amiss with the envelope. It’s not your fault. Look, if you want to think about something why don’t you think about all the time's I've teased you about not having to worry about you looking at other women, 'like any other red-blooded man'.”

“Okay, that is pretty obnoxious.”

Kate took a quick glance around the bullpen, before sliding out of her desk and catching him by the tie to pull him in for a quick kiss. As she did, Tim felt her mouth something quietly against his lips. He pushed her back when the words finally sunk in, demanding, “What did you just say?”

“I said you know that I'm the one who told all the girls downstairs you’re gay, right? 

“What?!?” Tim folded his arms across his chest, raising his eyebrow in his best 'out Gibbs 'Gibbs' glower, and waited. 

Kate shrugged, blushing slightly as she answered, “Just wanted to cut down on all the competition.”

Feeling a blush rise on his own cheeks, Tim just growled, “You're impossible!”

Smiling, Kate blew him another kiss from the palm of her hand, stepped around the end of her desk, and ordered, as she headed to the elevator, “hold onto that feeling, and you’ll be just fine.”

Not ready to let her get the last word, Tim called over his shoulder, “Oh Kate...”

“Hmm? “

“Are you headed down to Abby's lab?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, no reason, I just wanted you to know that, while you were in the hospital, I'd told her you tried to sleep with me while we were in Paraguay. “

The doors were closing between them when she finally answered with a grin, “Oh, that's okay, I told that her months ago. Just cutting down the competition; Abby would never try to steal her best friend's guy.”

Tim's jaw dropped open in shock as the elevator slid shut. 

\---

“How long did you know that bastard was here, Tobias? “

“I had my reasons, Jethro. “ Tobias Fornell glanced away, even knowing that Gibbs could read the guilt and reluctance in his actions. 

“How long?” Jethro demanded, all steel and icy anger.

Tobias didn't blame him, though; he'd known that withholding news of Ari's return to the states would get him in deep trouble with Gibbs, and that's who he was talking to, right now, NCIS Lead Supervisory Agent Jethro Gibbs, the man who was responsible and felt responsible for the lives of the five agent's who'd been put in direct danger by Ari Haswari more than once over the previous two year... not Jethro, the man who'd silently teased Tobias with an eloquently raised eyebrow as he stood at the ironing board, dressed only in his boxers and socks, re-ironing the suit that he'd been too distracted to hang up properly the night before. 

“About a week.” Tobias finally admitted, continuing, “We didn’t know what his cover mission was with Al Quieda until today.”

If he'd known before his partner and director had found out, there would have been no need for this conversation. He might not be a sniper, but he had his own means to an end...

“I’m taking him down.”

“Not this time, Gibbs,” Tobias answered, bluntly acknowledging what aspect of the man he was addressing, “Let the FBI handle this.”

When Gibbs stared at him in stony silence, Tobias pressed again, “Look, Jethro, if it was up to me I’d put a round through his forehead. It’s not. You’re sitting this one out.”

“You gonna try to stop me?”

“No, Jethro. That's not my style, and I had hoped I wouldn't need to.” He handed Jethro the coffee he'd bought for him, and paused letting his fingers wrap around the other man's grasp on the cup as it passed... hoping Gibbs' gaze would soften as their touches lingered, but the man was still too mad, and lover or no, Tobias had withheld information that left his team unprotected from a very real threat for the better part of a week.

The fact that he had come forward on discovering that it was Gibbs himself that Ari was targeting definitely wouldn't help, but it had to be said: “Jethro, he's coming after you.”

For the first time since their conversation started, he saw a glimpse of Jethro in Gibbs' eyes.

“Course he is,” Gibbs murmured gently in the only acknowledgment of his concern that Tobias knew he could expect, before returning to his Gibbs' senior agent aspect, “That'll just make it easier to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For information on David Cain's background check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Cain_%28comics%29


	3. No News is Good News?

Stifling a laugh at the stricken expression on McGee's face as the young man stood frozen in the elevator, staring out at his partner (who was diligently reviewing the files they'd built on the bastard Ari) with an almost terrified expression, Gibbs grabbed one of the files from his desk as a prop and orders, “McGee with me,” joining the man on the elevator. 

“Do I need my gear?” McGee almost stuttered as he took an aborted half-step out. 

“Nah. Just going to the lab.” 

“Abby's found something?” McGee asked with a wince as Gibbs hit the button to freeze the car. 

“Better question is if you've finally found the nerve to give Todd that ring and mean it?” Gibbs demanded, his eyes pointedly focused on the lump in McGee's breast pocket, “Or are you just reacting to what happened with that damn envelope? Cause if it's the latter, it's the wrong reason, and you're better off shoving that box to the bottom of your go bag 'til you've got your head on straight.”

“Boss?!?” McGee asked startled and even more anxious, no doubt worrying if he was about to be reamed out for breaking rule 12.

“Take it from me, Probie, putting a ring on her finger won't keep her any safer than not. Even married, you can't be with her 24/7/365, and she's not the type to let you control her comings and goings, though it might be something to see you try. Do it for the right reasons, or don't do it.” 

Slapping the button to get the elevator car moving again, Gibbs left the elevator smirking at the still dumbfounded McGee, not knowing whether it was the content of his advice, or the sheer volume of it that had caught his agent off guard. Gibbs had never been very much of a talker to begin with, but Tobias had recently commented that he sometimes worried whether Gibbs was even aware he had vocal cords and could use them. Despite the fact that Tobias shared his own quiet, sometimes taciturn manner, the man sometimes seemed off-put by the comfortable silence they often fell into when they were together. 

Abby, he was pleased to see, was hard at work swabbing a Q-tip over the set of keys before dropping the swab into a tube of that 'floaty' medium she used for the spectrometer. 

“What have you got for me, Abbs?”

“Gibbs, what are you doing here so early? I have only run 10 samples so far. That's hardly enough for conclusive....” trailing off as she spotted his raised brow, she started over, “Okay, I can tell you this. The main electric charge is C4. Is primed with depth cord and blasting caps.”

“Yeah, Abby, I know. I got a glimpse of the bomb. It was definitely a pro job. So, have you traced it back to the manufacturer, yet?”

“No, and that's the really, really hinky part.”

“Abbs, every military explosive over the last 20 years has had tangents mixed in for identification purposes.”

“Not this batch.” Abby denied with conviction.

“Made from scratch? 

“No. The compositions are exact off the shelf. It shouldn’t be possible, but...” 

“Oh, it’s possible,” Gibbs answered, familiar with several ways that the bomber could have come into possession of untraceable C4: none of them good. “Are you sure these explosives aren’t traceable?”

“So far, but I’m still checking. “

“How about the detonator?”

“Also weird. The electronics are fairly simple but there’s no serial numbers on anything. It’s like it’s been sanitized.”

Nodding to Abby, Gibbs pointed to the cup of Caf-Pow he had picked up on the way to the lab and silently slipped onto her desk, without her notice. As she squealed, he slipped from the lab, flipping open his phone as he stepped out into the hall. 

Hitting the first button on the speed dial, Gibbs smiled at the gruff voice that answered with a note of hesitation. 

“Care for lunch at Marianos'?” he gently invited, and shook his head at the relieved huff and finally the delayed response, “I'll be there in ten!”

Gibbs snapped his phone closed, still shaking his head with wry amusement. 

Once his temper had cooled, Gibbs had recognized how – not only hurtful but unfair his accusation of Tobias trying to interfere in his pursuit of Ari truly was, and had ruefully... eventually apologized. It was only Tobias's due though, and Gibbs knew it so had finally swallowed his pride and show up on his lover's doorstep proverbial hat in hand and silently listened while Tobias ranted about what he'd do if Gibbs went “off the reservation again.” To be fair, throughout the much unexpected relationship, though Tobias had railed at him many... many times for disappearing, so far, Tobias had never tried to reign him in. 

Instead, he had only ever offered him a single ultimatum, the very last time he'd disappeared just a year and a half earlier when Tim had been kidnapped and trapped down in the sewers by a psychotic waitress. As far as Tobias was concerned, Gibbs could ignore and defy his superiors at NCIS or any other agency he worked with (even including the FBI), but if he ever left Tobias out of the loop again – the scene with Diane and the golf club would seem like a happy memory. As threats went, it was a pretty good one, and Gibbs was pretty certain that with Diane as his teacher and a better understanding of Gibbs than their joint ex-wife had ever had, Tobias could carry it out. 

Tucking his phone away, Gibbs decided that as long as he was already downstairs, he might as well check with the coroner to see if his friend had discovered anything new from their victims. As it happened, Palmer, Ducky's twitchy assistant had found matching dental records that the two men who'd been shot were pilots rather than navy or marines, despite what the anonymous witness, who'd claimed to discover the car driven off the road. 

Tobias was already sitting at their table when Gibbs had arrived, and appeared to have ordered, given that Gibbs caught a whiff of the owner's 'famous' steak sauce... well perhaps ordered was an overstatement when they were so familiar to the owner that a nod in the heavy set man's direction was enough to to see two steaks thrown on the grill. 

“Looks like you're thinkin' too hard,” he greeted, his words clearly cutting across some deep contemplation as Tobias practically jumped as Gibbs sat down. 

“I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear, am I?” were Tobias's first words, as his friend paused to read Gibbs expression before he sat down. 

“Not likely, still wanna hear it?” he agreed wryly. 

“I might as well have told Skinner that I was going out for a business lunch so I could write it off.” Tobias grumbled before continuing, “Well, Christ! Jethro, you might as well tell me sooner than later so I can have them put my lunch in a to go pack, sooner rather than later.”

“Our current case...”

“The sailors who'd been driven off the road and shot?” Tobias questioned. 

“Yep,” Gibbs agreed. 

“What about it?” 

“A crosscheck for their dental records came back with IDs for two pilots.”

“So... someone wanted you there.” Tobias sighed with frustration. 

“Looks like it,” Gibbs agreed.

“So Ari's making his move.” Tobias tone sounded almost like he was cursing, as he stated what Gibbs might have thought was obvious just an hour earlier... now he wasn't so certain. 

“Might be.”

Tobias's eyes narrowed at the qualification. The fact that it wasn't the complete agreement that Tobias had expected it to be had clearly caught Tobias's attention as surely as the report of a .44 would have caught his notice. 

\---

“That's what I said.”

“Anything leading you to think it's not?”

“You tell me, Tobias. This Al Quieda cell Ari's working for: how likely is it that would have 'off the shelf', untraceable C-4?” 

Tobias's stomach plummeted. 

“Not at all.”

“Ya sure?”

“I almost wish I weren't as sure as I am, but we've got concrete evidence to the contrary.” 

_Damn it!_ He swore mentally as they considered the possibility. Almost the very last thing that they needed right now was another hitter coming after them, much less one – given the weapon of choice – who was a professional and politically connected. 

“We've managed to get significant samples of their munitions, enough to identify their source down to the exact manufacturer and plant. We're just waiting to bring the entire cell down – to shut them down as well. We don't want there to be any clue to send our suspects underground.”

“Pretty much what I thought.” Tobias marveled at the understatement, almost aghast at the other man's calm. 

There were only a handful of intelligence agencies in a smaller handful of countries that even bothered with traceless – untraceable munitions, and that handful usually didn't include extremist and terrorist groups wanting to claim responsibility for successful attacks … occasionally without regard for who had actually committed the attack. 

MI6, CIA, former KGB, Special Forces, and Mossad were about the only ones left using untraceable C-4.

“So you're thinking that it's a sanctioned hit?” Tobias pressed, wondering just how far Mossad Director David would be willing to go for his agent to infiltrate a single cell in the US. If he wanted his agent to have some upward mobility in the extremest group, would he even sanction allowing the cell to make a successful attack in the US if it would provide a stepping stone for their agent to infiltrate the Al Quieda hierarchy?

“Could be...”

“Mossad?”

“Well, if there's a snake in the neighborhood, it pays to wear your boots.” 

Tobias grinned at the hokum colloquialism that he knew Jethro had thrown in to lighten the mood. 

“Outside of Mossad, I suppose there might be a handful of old pros who might still have an ax to grind and might be careful enough to use and have the connections to get the untraceable stuff.” 

The unexpected reminder that Jethro had once participated in sanctioned black ops... caught Tobias off guard and brought another possibility to mind: one that quite frankly terrified him. 

His heart seemed to freeze in his throat and it took Tobias several seconds to choke out his question, Jethro watching him with quiet concern, but waiting.

“Have you ever crossed paths with a professional named David Cain?”

“Doesn't sound familiar? Know his call sign or contact name? 

“If we're right... he goes by Abel.”

"Interesting word play," Jethro answered with a snort... that immediately made Tobias's anxiety shoot sky high. That answer was a deflection at best, not a denial, and they both knew it. 

“Did you?” Tobias pressed, not able to wait as patiently as Gibbs had.

“There's a possibility. One of our targets was in the process of trying to hire him for protection, but the deal never went through. If he hasn't come after me before this though, I can't see him doing it now.”

“According to our information, he hasn't been in the US for close to a decade... Our source says he's going by another code name, now, though it's still a play off the Cain and Abel: the Shepherd. He's been tied to an organized cult of international assassins, on the borders with Tibet. According to our source, his role has been to train up their new generation, taking street children, orphans, and rumors suggest he's even turned own daughter over to this 'league' and trained the kids to be their canon fodder.”

“Any of these rumors say why he's in the US?” Gibbs finally asked. 

“That's a good question, with conflicting answers. Our source says that he's here because of a feud with the cult's leader. Another source say's there's not a feud he's either got something in his possession or knows the location to something that people want to get their hands on, and he left the cult because he didn't trust his 'comrades' and students enough not to stab him in the back and sell it to the highest bidder.”

“And the FBI wants to get their hands on this 'thing', too?” Gibbs questioned dubiously.

“Not really, but if it will give us leverage on him, we might get what we really want - leverage on Vincenzo “The Butcher” DiGabretsi. We've been after that old bastard for decades, and this is the closest we've come to so far. Our voice analysis techs think they can tie Cain into at least seven executions. If we can get him to turn on DiGabretsi...”

“How are you plannin' on doing that?” Jethro asked skeptically.

“We almost have enough to move in on him soon.”


	4. An Attitude of Self-Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit surprised at the route that this chapter took. It seemed to have a life of its own, but it did finally get around to a meeting between Tony and Tobias.

Leaning against his master's leg, pup tilted his head on his master's command and held still for his master to insert the bluetooth earbud that he customarily used to communicate with pup when he intended to leave pup for an extended time. After the earbud was set securely, his master's fingers curled softly around his chin and pressed up in a silent command. Pup obediently lifted his chin, closing his eyes so that he wasn't looking into his master's without permission. A soft slide of skin across his lips caused him to catch his breath and lift himself eagerly into the kiss. 

His master so rarely kissed him: every time was to be treasured, no matter how small. 

"My pliant, obedient pup." His master whispered as his lips ghosted over pup's cheek until a soft breath blew directly into his ear. When pup shivered in response, his master huffed a breathy chuckle and lightly nipped his earlobe. 

Panting as his master continued to nip and work his earlobe between sharp teeth and warm lips, pup froze under his master's attentions - his head spinning dizzily as he felt his blood flow beginning to warm him uncomfortably and pool in his groin. Demanding hands roved over his chest and stomach stroking and stimulating the spots his master knew would arouse him. Working slowly down to his hips, his master's fingers didn't leave a centimeter untouched and only stopped when they reached the titanium ring that was feeling tighter by the second as his master worked his body with the full knowledge of their twenty-five years.

Pup was shivering with arousal before his master's hand finally left his body, with a quiet order: "tonight, I'll want you oiled and ready, inside and out."

After a second his master stepped away, picked up the cases pup had retrieved earlier, and started to leave. Unexpectedly, though. just a moment later, when his master reached the door, pup heard him pause, then set down the cases and return to stand behind him.

Very, very slowly, his master's calloused fingertips skated down his spine, to the cap of his hip, then ever-so-slowly over his stomach and down his abdomen to close over his shaft. His master's hand slowly pumped him until pup began tremble with the struggle not to come before his master gave permission, and his cock was leaking copiously from the stimulation. 

"This is the gift I want from you, today, pup. Show me how obedient you can be," his master ordered as he ran his thumb across his leaking slit, "Keep yourself like this: wet, wanting, and well-stretched. Waiting desperately for my permission and willing to hold on as long as it takes and through whatever you have to do to get it."

Pup shuddered at the order, but when his master reached for his left hand and pulled it up to coat his fingers in his own precum, pup shifted his weight to balance as evenly as possible as his master pushed pup's coated fingers back towards his tightly puckered hole. 

"That's the only lube I want you to use to stretch yourself, pup, so you'd best make sure you have enough of it to do the job because I want you stretched enough that I can slide right in the second I step through the door. If you're not, I'll use you anyway, but mark my words, you'll be punished afterwards."

Falling forward slightly, with a gasp as his master breached him with one of his own fingers, pup nodded his understanding and tried to calm his breathing before beginning to twist his finger in a slow careful rotation. 

"That's it, pup, but deeper. I want you go deeper and graze your prostate as often as possible without going over the edge. After all, obedience isn't obedience if it's easy… deeper pet, I want to see the evidence of your obedience in your expression and carriage before I go."

Pup knew better than to hesitate, but he wasn't ready for his own reaction when his finger hit the gland, and he dropped forward on his elbow and forearm, barely catching himself before his face was planted in the carpet. 

It had been more than a year since his master had last used him this way, and longer still since he'd been anywhere near close enough to worry about his own release. The promise of the possibility, itself, was already playing on his nerves as he struggled to draw shallow breaths between his unvoiced groans. Sweat rolled down his back pooling between his shoulder blades, but his master still stood watching him, so pup pushed even deeper twisting his finger until it could hit the gland again in passing. Again and again he pressed the gland on every rotation until he was swaying with dizziness and his face was pressed into his forearm. It was only when the last of his precum had been rubbed off of his fingers, and he pulled them out to re-coat them, that he realized his master was no longer behind him or even in the room. 

As he rolled his fingers in the trickle of precum, pup fought the against the urge to delay and be guaranteed of his obedience. His master had been clear enough in his orders and had never been satisfied with half-hearted obedience, in the few rare instances - early in his youth- when pup had offered them (having been either too weak or too exhausted to comply completely with his master's requests) and pup would not offer his mentor and protector anything less than his full and best efforts. It was the man's due. 

With that thought, though his fingers were still mostly dry despite rolling them in the thin stream leaking from his slit, pup hurriedly pushed them through his still tight anus, using the burn to offset his choking arousal as the two fingers stabbed his prostate at the same time. He scrubbed them punishingly against the gland in penance for his slight delay and was forced to bite his arm to forestall his fall. Only when he was certain that he would not be able to stop himself if he made a single movement more did he finally let his fingers still, dragging sobbing breaths around the skin still clenched between his teeth. 

"Good, pup, that's my boy." his master's voice whispered remotely into his ear through the earbud, causing pup to thrust inadvertently against his fingers in response to his master's voice and praise. It was a near thing, but the second's pause had been just barely enough to abort the urge to ejaculate. His master chuckled knowingly at his increased sobbing gasps before murmuring that he would leave pup to his preparations and returning to silence. 

\---

The thought that his master was listening to pup - even as he was working - stayed with pup throughout the torturous afternoon and drove him to more and more concerted efforts to push his limits closer and closer to the edge, with shorter and shorter waits before restarting the stimulation.

By noon, when the doorbell rang, pup was jittery with his need to come, shaking, flushed, and trembling so hard as he tried to don the house robe his master permitted when they had guests that it had taken two attempts to to tie the belt in a presentable square knot. 

Although it was unexpected, given his master's orders to keep himself constantly on edge, it was not the first time that his master had permitted unplanned visitors to their apartment… so long as they announced their presence and came through the front door, there was a short very exclusive list of guests that his master permitted past security and into their quarters without his presence, including his master's daughter, her significant other, Ras Al Ghul, a prominent businessman from Gotham, a 'former associate' from Israel and the man's two children. Their visits were rare, but pup was under standing orders to escort them into the living room, show them his master's hospitality, and monitor their guests until his master returned.

With the haze he'd kept himself in throughout the morning distracting him, pup opened the door without turning on the monitor to verify the visitor's identity and was suddenly startled into taking a defensive step back as an un-folding pack of papers was thrust in front of his face. 

"FBI; I'm Agent Tobias Fornell; this is Agent Ronald Sacks," the man speaking gestured to a tense black man close to pup's age, who announced, as he stepped past pup into the foyer of his master's apartment, barely explaining, "We have a warrant to search this residence and to take Mr. Cain in for questioning. Where is he?"

Pup stared at the man in astonishment, trying to remember what his master had done the one other time he'd been contacted by a law enforcement official. Pup had been only twelve at the time and had barely even been looked at by the men whom had searched his master's rooms... with his master's permission. 

Seeming to take his silence as blunt refusal, the agent, Sacks scanned pup up and down, seeming to come to a decision, and gestured for the other men on his team into the room, ordering: "spread out, and check for any other entrances; I'm thinking Cain's still here."

As the other men started to spread out and secure the apartment, the older agent who'd first spoken stayed beside pup and studied him with quiet appraising eyes.

In turn, pup held his gaze, trying to estimate to what extent the older man was a threat to his master, discounting the younger agent immediately. Even if his master had never pointed out the fact to him, pup had seen enough, during his master's interactions with others of his circle, to recognize that the younger more aggressive 'lieutenant's' even when they seemed to be in charge, were rarely the true threats to be watched for.

Instead, it was the older, quieter men, like the one who was watching him, with discerning eyes, who were the greater threat. The man's did not seem to hold any malice or challenge the way the younger agent's eyes had. There was something else in the man's eyes though, a mix of determination and another emotion that pup couldn't quite pin down, but that didn't strike him as being negative toward his master, though something to be careful of, nonetheless. 

"They're not going to find him, are they?" the older agent asked as they heard repeated calls of 'clear' from each room as the team progressed on their search. 

Pup shook his head in the negative. His master had not been there for hours, and now that pup had surreptitiously triggered the suite's silent alarm system with the remote embedded in his cuff, his master would not be returning... at least not until he was certain that their apartment was no longer being watched. While this was only the second time that pup could remember being challenged by law enforcement, it was not the first time that pup had faced an incursion into their quarters, and the long years of training under his master's guidance had ensured that he would follow the proper protocol: warn, withdraw (if possible), watch, wait, ward, and wield the level of attack needed to route their intruders. Thankfully, his master had long-forgiven the weak-minded sentiment that made it so difficult for pup to launch any attack that was not directly in protection of his master... and had worked acceptable alternatives into their defense plans.

After a short time, the younger agent returned with a disgruntled expression, growling "Cain's not here" at the older man as he glared at pup. 

When the older man didn't answer him, but continued to stare at pup, seeming to wait for his reaction, Agent Sacks huffed, "we've cleared the apartment, though, and can start the search."

From the man's tone and the way he seemed to be just short of stepping between them, pup suspected that he was jealous and trying to get the older man's attention back on himself. 

From the older agent's expression, pup suspected that Agent Fornell was aware of it as well. 

"You found a bedroom, I trust?" Fornell asked in return, glancing briefly toward pup's robe with an expression that clearly spoke of his intention to find pup something else to wear. They wouldn't find it, but there wasn't any way for pup to really express that fact, and he knew that the would discover it on their own soon. 

"Yeah, this way," Agent Sacks answered and grabbed pup by the elbow, roughly pushing him ahead of the older man.

Despite Sacks' aggression, pup walked ahead of them without resistance; more and more, the younger agent was proving himself too impulsive to be a true threat, and without the real provocation of an imminent threat toward his master, pup was not prepared to strike out in a way that might incur the older man's wrath, unnecessarily. In any event, he could easily understand the younger man's desire not to leave the older man's back unguarded. 

It had taken Sacks only a few second's of study to recognize that the wardrobes only contained his master's clothes as pup did not share his master's packed-muscular frame. Pup glanced away from the older, who was casually perusing the room glancing behind the edges of paintings and mirrors, to watch the younger man pushing carefully through his master's clothes, seeming to recognize and unconsciously respect the quality of his master's clothes and treating them more carefully than pup suspected he normally would have treated clothes in other searches.

"Damn! Cain's gotta be a real bruiser. Every thing here is 2x plus, and none of it's cut for a fat man either, but unless you want _him_ to look like he's wearing a dress or let him have a belt, if he goes to lock up, he'll have to keep hold on any of these to keep them up. It might be funny enough to watch, but inconvenient if we have to put him in cuffs."

Pup turned at the older agent's snort of amusement and wry order, "keep looking", and froze for a moment as his eyes fell on Agent Fornell. The FBI agent was standing in front of the Barcelona, his fingers on the drawer pull for the top right drawer. Despite the many long years that his master had worked to ensure his composure in every event, pup panicked at what he knew was about to happen, and he struck out - slapping the wall loudly to get the older man's attention as he shook his head frantically. 

"Looks like you found something, Boss. " Sacks practically crowed, grabbing pup's arm as pup started toward the older man. "Haswari said that Cain was keeping something special!"

The older man's expression wasn't entirely convinced, but pup could tell that senior agent was misreading his initial panicked reaction. After a second's hesitation, the determination that he'd seen earlier in the older man's eyes took over again, and pup threw himself into action as Fornell turned back to the Barcelona.

Kicking out as he twisted in Sacks' grip, he threw the slower unprepared agent into the bed, only wincing slightly at the man hit the bed frame with a crack and shouted in pain. Before Fornell could even spin back around, the pull still in his hand and the drawer pulled about an inch out from the dresser, pup was tackling him - pushing him out of the way in time to take the full blast in his chest and shoulder as the older man fell beneath him - winded, but otherwise unscathed. 

\---

Tobias had already pulled himself out from under Cain's unidentified companion by the time that Rowley and Kirk came charging into the room, their guns drawn, and Sacks was pulling himself to his feet using one of the bed's taller posts. The younger black agent paled noticeably as he looked past Fornell to the young man's body drawing Fornell's own eyes back to the man who'd yet to move. Shards of the drawer, drawer pull, and shrapnel that Fornell suspected Cain must have packed into the booby trap, peppered the young man's chest with deep, ugly wounds leaving Tobias no doubt what the result would have been if he had taken the blast directly to the face and throat as he would have if the young man hadn't leaped to push him down and out of the way. 

"Shit! Look at that," Rowley pointed, surprisingly not at the bloody section of the young man's robe but at the gap where the robe had fallen open, exposing not only the fact that the younger man wasn't wearing undershorts, but that his shaft and testicles were still trapped and tortured by a metal ring at their base, making them almost as bruised purple as the few wounds on his chest that weren't actively bleeding. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Tobias demanded, angrily, "stop staring at his dick, get an ambulance here now, and for God's sake, don't touch anything else until the bomb squad's checked it out."

Kneeling by the young man, Tobias pulled the robe shut with a glare at Rowley, before snapping at Sacks to sit down and put his gun away. Unbelievably, Sacks had still been aiming his gun at the young man who was staring up at the ceiling with wide glazed eyes, his suffering silent but composed - one hand briefly clutching the wrist of his other before sinking slowly to his abdomen. 

"Hold on kid," Tobias coaxed, "hold on." 

The young man blinked slowly in response, but when Tobias sank down beside him and lifted one of the younger man's hands into his own, the man exhaled in a slow sigh and curled his fingers gently around Tobias's, as though afraid to cause the older man injury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up - the meeting you may have been waiting for.


	5. Chapter 5

Tobias started in alarm, spinning as the door rattled in its frame after rebounding from the wall - thrown back the force of Gibb's hand as he stormed into the room, his eyes automatically traveling to the first bed.

Unaware of Tobias's gaze, and clearly too frantic to guard his expression, Gibbs allowed Tobias a sight he rarely ever saw: worry, fear, and desperation vivid in Jethro's steel blue eyes. It was clear from Gibbs searching gaze that quickly jumped to the second bed when he seemed to quickly catalogue the patient in the first bed, Cain's still unidentified companion, as "Not Tobias". It was only on recognizing Tobias's young partner, his head thrown back against the pillows awkwardly, drool running down his cheeks as he slept, that his eyes finally turned to the visitors chairs and Tobias.

"What the Hell, Tobias?!?! You know the rules: Never be unreachable. Hell, you're quick enough to call me on it when I don't call. You know Abby keeps track of channels whenever you go to an unsecured crime scenes. I've been trying to call you since she told me of the explosion, but you haven't answered not even once. What the hell were you doing that you couldn't give me a call? You know that ... Abby... worries."

In answer, Tobias held up the cracked phone. He had tried to call almost immediately, once he had the opportunity after making certain that the scene was secured and turned it over to the bomb team. Several times, in fact. He had even tried from the hospital phone, but at that point, it had been a futile effort, though, as Jethro seemed to be calling constantly, and he'd not been able to get through.

In any event, he hadn't wanted to leave Cain's companion and Ron alone for much longer. Ron, though a fairly good agent under most circumstances, was never easy to deal with after being hurt, and having their suspect's companion in the same room with Ron had probably been a mistake. Still he had wanted to keep a guard over the boy after he'd come out of surgery, and without his team on site, the only other option would have been to consign the young man, whom he was beginning to suspect was less of a companion and more of a hostage... or slave... to the medical center's secure rooms reserved transfer patients from local law enforcement agencies, where he would chained to the bed and guarded by undiscerning guards who were as likely to view and treat him as the criminal accomplice - a circumstance that Tobias was beginning to doubt.

His silence must have been too long, or too many emotions spinning across his expression, because, almost before he was aware of it, Jethro was on one knee in front of him, a palm to his forehead and a gentle thumb lifting his eyebrows one eyebrow than the next to check his pupils.

"It doesn't look like you've got a concussion," Gibbs pronounced, though it wasn't with complete certainty as his free hand ghosted the back of Tobias's skull, with a feather-light touch, checking for knots or any sign of swelling. 

"No," Tobias agreed, suppressing the smile that was working itself through his grim mood at Jethro's un-characteristic show of concern.

"So, you weren't close to the blast, then? Was there anyone other than Slacks and…." he paused glancing over to Cain's companion, the tilt of his head and repeated glancing up and down over the young man's silent form, telling Tobias that Jethro was trying to parse the young man's name from one of the many 'sitreps' he'd shared with Jethro over the previous months, their alternative to most couples' tendency to venting about a difficult day. Tobias suspected that if he'd ever quizzed Jethro on the status of any of the cases they'd been assigned, Jethro would probably be able to give up better details than even Ron might have, so it was no wonder that his question faded into a quizzical silence. 

Tobias chuckled grimly before answering, "Wrong. I was right in front of it. It would have taken my head off." he explained. 

"Then, do I owe Slacks an apology for assuming he had screwed up."

"Nope, not this time," Tobias answered with a wry smile in Sacks direction, where the agent was still drooling into is pillow, "He pretty much performed up to his usual standard."

"Tell me, then, who do I owe the gift basket for keeping your block on straight?"

"Cain's boy, over there." Tobias answered, pointing to the be, where the young man reclined watching them silently. For all the pain that Tobias knew the young man must have been in, from the original injuries to the impromptu surgery by the paramedics cutting into his side to reinflate his collapsed lung, the young man had not made a sound or complained once, simply bearing the pain and everything that went with it, silently, unlike Ron whom had suffered a much lesser injury - a cracked femur - far more vocally, annoying even the nurses with his complaints. 

Gibbs looked over to the young man, in surprise, then walked over holding his hand out to shake. 

The young man looked at it for a moment, with a confused expression, before sticking his own hand out seeming curious what Gibbs would do with it.

Gibbs took the young man's hand gently and shook it, then released it with an expression of bemusement at the young man's continued confusion, explaining, "The old man, over there, is… a good friend, and annoying though he may be, I'd kind of like to keep him around a while longer."

True to form, the young man didn't answer, instead glancing over then back to Gibbs in front of him, without responding. 

"Okay, then." Gibbs replied to the one sided conversation, when the young man still had not commented, "Thanks," and walked back to Tobias.

"And people say I'm not one for talking," Gibbs offered lightly.

"Not sure he knows how to speak," Tobias replied grimly, "but he hears what we're saying and for the most part understands."

"For the most part?" Gibbs asked with an arched brow.

"Yeah. From how he tried to warn me about the booby trap, slapping the wall and shaking his head, my first impression was that he was a mute and just couldn't speak. He'd nodded yes and no, at the right points, but then they asked him to sign their waivers and forms… It was the damnedest thing, Jethro, he looked at the pen they'd given him just like he did your handshake. Hadn't a clue what to do with it, and the paper might as well have been a lap blanket. Doesn't act like he doesn't know how to read, but more like he doesn't know what reading even is. I think it’s the same with talking, if he ever knew how to speak, I think he's forgotten. "

"You're kidding me!" Gibbs protested, his voice thick with disbelief as he turned to study the young man. Tobias knew he was cataloging the bright, intelligent eyes; the silent, watchful stare; and his polite, attentive bearing... and wondering what kind of upbringing the kid must have had to have no concept of even those most-basic skills. He recognized the moment that Gibbs remembered a comment mentioned from their earlier discussion that offered a rudimentary, if horrible possibility. 

"You think he's one of the kids Cain trained?"

"That would be my guess," Tobias agreed. 

"Shit!" 

"That's how I'd sum it up." Tobias replied grimly. "But, if Cain was going for a killing machine, he missed his mark. The kid didn't just try to warn me about the charge, when I didn't 'listen', he tackled me out of the way, taking the charge himself."

"He did?" Gibbs asked, acknowledging Tobias's nod in a thoughtful tone, "Doesn't sound like something Cain would want him to do." 

"No, that's what I was thinking, too."

"So you think we have one of Cain's kids here, but one with a mind of his own? What are you thinking? Planning to try to get him to testify?"

"Don't see how." Tobias answered grimly, "If I'm right, and he doesn't even have a clue how to speak, no way we can prepare him to stand up in court and give his answers in a way that they won't be twisted every way to Sunday, much less understanding the nuances of what's being asked."

Gibbs stayed silent, giving Tobias the room to ask what he must have just realized that Tobias was going to ask.

"Jethro, I want to protect this boy. Right now, best case scenario, he's a material witness; worst case - an accomplice, willing or otherwise. Either way, he's a loose end, and Cain isn't known for leaving loose ends behind."

They both noticed that the young man's hand had suddenly gone to the metal collar at his throat, his expression paling slightly in response to Tobias's words. Gibbs arched a brow at the oddity of the hospital leaving the collar and cuffs in place, but with his suspicions confirmed, Tobias caught Gibbs’ eyes with a jerk of his head toward the door and a side comment to the boy: "we'll be right back. If you need something, tap the table."

For the first time since Jethro slammed into the room, the young man responded, still silently, but with a confirming nod and glance at the table.

Closing the door behind them, Gibbs stared down at him with a curious grimace as he commented, "Strange time to start being discreet, Tobias."

"I wanted to see the boy's reaction to what I was saying." Tobias began, "but I'm not certain how much of what I'm about to say the boy should hear."

"Doesn't sound good."

"You noticed the collar and bracelets?"

"Hard not to; didn't think that docs usually let stuff like that stay on." Gibbs pointed out. 

"They don't, but when a top agent in the FBI bomb squad examines it and tells them that the doc who tries to cut it off might lose a hand in the process as well as blowing the kid’s head off, they tend to listen. Can't say that they're any too happy with us keeping him here, but not much they can do about it till he's healed up enough to move."

Gibbs stared at him with a slightly aghast expression until he finally croaked out, "You're sure?"

"Yep, as they were carting him out the ambulance, one of the bomb squad boys was walking by with a scanner and picked up the signal for a receiver embedded in both the bracelets and the collar. They don't think enough could have been packed into any of the separate pieces to do more than that, but if Cain is just looking to get rid of a loose end, they think there'd be more than enough to do it."

“Doesn’t mean that Cain…” Gibbs denied lightly, and of course, he was right. The only way they would for sure would be to cut it off and dismantle them, but the risk of triggering one if it was present was too great. Especially considering the forensic tech couldn’t identify any other reason for the cuffs to have similar receiver, if not as a trigger. 

“No,” Tobias agreed, “No guarantee he did, but it looks like it’s almost an obsession for him: at last count, the bomb squad has ferretted out 28 booby traps. Cain even put a charge in a soap dispenser; do you really think the bastard wouldn’t hedge his bets in case someone ever came across his companion there?”

Gibbs swallowed dryly but the determination in his eyes told Tobias the answer to his -as yet - unasked question, as much as the words that followed:

"I'll keep an eye on him for you, know of a place equipped with remote device-suppression."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"Nope," Gibbs disagreed with a knowing smile, "You were planning on me saying it, not hoping. Don't think I don't know you were planning on bringing out the big guns if I didn't say yes."

"The big guns?" Tobias asked with returning amusement. "If he had 'big guns' to use against Gibbs, he didn't know about it.

"Yep, your puppy dog eyes." Gibbs chuckled as Tobias felt his chin drop in shock and he stammered, "P-Puppy dog eyes?"

"Yep, get back in to your boys, Tobias, and call me when he's ready to be moved." Knowing he'd driven Tobias speechless, Gibbs stalked back down the hallway – the sound of amused chuckling trailing in his wake.


	6. And The World Turns on It's Head.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the BAU...

"Is there any chance one of your modular UAVs is missing?" Tim asked David Eberlee, the site manager of the Danborn Avionics Modular UAV project, as he gestured them toward the hanger where Lieutenant Westfall, the victim who's hands had been cut off, was reported to work.

"UAV?" Kate questioned, after running through the list of acronyms she'd become familiar with, since joining the NCIS, and coming up a blank.

"An unmanned aerial vehicle" Tim and Eberlee answered at the same time. As usual, Tim continued the explanation for a few seconds, "There are currently five versions under development, under the auspices of the Airforce, Army, Navy, NASA, Dep--" until Gibbs' arched brow and silent "Shut up, already" expression cut him off in favor of the site manager, who picked up the discussion.

"Well, this is the one being developed in conjunction with the Navy, though it can be reconfigured for different kinds of missions in the field, so we are anticipating opportunities to meet the requirements the Airforce and Army contracts as well. "

"What kind of missions," Gibbs cut across his sales spiel impatiently.

"Reconnaissance, nuclear, biological agent testing, and," Eberlee paused as he noticed Tim wincing with an uncomfortable glance at Kate, but Eberlee wrote it off, obviously confused by Tim's expression and continued, "uh… ground attack, of course."

"So it can be used as a weapon?" Kate pressed, trying to ignore Tim's awkward reaction.

She was trying to be patient, but he really, really needed to get over his sensitivity to the issue. She'd survived the plague…. Didn't that prove she was tougher than he thought? Apparently not, judging by the way he still winced at the suggestion and unconsciously stepped between the mail cart and her whenever it passed near her desk.

"Of course, that's the ultimate goal… someday, but it's just a prototype right now, and in answer to your earlier question, no, we only have one, and that's her right over there." Eberlee pointed toward the blocky modular vehicle that she was sure would remind McGee of a prop for the latest Batman Series.

"Oh, and before you ask, we changed all our security codes and removed Westfall’s from the system last night.

"Do any of your security systems rely on fingerprint or palm scanning technology, Mister Eberlee?" Kate asked hoping to deflect the manager's attention from Gibb's derisive sneer at the precaution of finally changing the codes … several days after the pilot went missing without notice or leave.

"Why?" Eberlee's uncomfortable look told Kate and Gibbs, by the sound of the soft mutter behind her, that the manager hadn't even considered the possibility.

"Well... Lieutenant Westfall was missing his hands." Tim supplied in an uncomfortable note that drew another glare from Gibbs, as their senior agent explained bluntly: "Someone hacked them off! "

"Uh… the FBI… didn’t mention that. " Eberlee stammered, and Kate rolled her eyes at Tim, already knowing what Gibb's answer was going to be.

"We did. What’s the answer?" Gibbs forced out in a neutral tone - appearing to realize that intimidating the man further would not lead to their getting answers any quicker.

"Our radio flight control systems use biometrics. Only pilots entered into the system can fly them."

"Like Westfall." Gibbs supplied bluntly, and they all seem to notice that the manager had turned at least two shades paler. Without being told to, Tim scooted just a little closer to the man, just in case he became weak-kneed.

"Uh…I mean… that is… yes, but we only have one flyable UAV and that’s it.

"What about these? " Tim asked glancing over the man's shoulder at a rack with several shelves full of short, red four-winged… for lack of a better word … planes, that looked, to Kate, like a bad mix between a college science-fair missile and an oversized model plane.

"Those are target drones. Danborn Avionics got its start making them in the nineteen seventies. They’re relics. "

"Looks like one’s missing. " Tim supplied needlessly. The empty sling - all too obvious now that they were looking at the rack from the front of it instead of the side view they'd had through most of the tour of hanger.

"It was… it was probably moved. "

"Of that," Gibbs answered dryly, "I have no doubt."

Kate was not really all that surprised when Gibbs ordered Tim to stay behind with the manager to get "Whatever it takes to stop one of those"; Abby - already on the phone - was giving him the details of what a drone could do.

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When he finally hung up, Gibbs glowered out the window for several seconds before ordering Kate to head toward Norfolk.

"Why?" She asked mystified. Neither Abby, Tim, or Eberlee mentioned anything about Norfolk.

"What’s today’s date, Kate? "

"May twenty-fourth."

"And…"

"Is that some kind of special anniversary, or something?" She didn't remember any special events being mentioned around the office.

"When you're not working on a case, Kate, start checking the logs for incoming ships… Let's you anticipate trouble when you know how many ships are headed in. "

"So ships are coming in…" she agreed, feeling like she'd finally caught his unspoken inference that the more ships in port had a direct correlation to the number of navy-related crimes they would have to deal with; his sigh wasn't encouraging.

"The whole Marine Amphibious Strike Group returned today, Kate. Five ships - all of them headed to Norfolk."

"Okay, but I doubt that a drone, even one packed with explosives, could do any real damage to a warship. "

"The piers will be packed with Navy families, Kate, waiting to welcome them home… and trust me, that kind of damage will do more harm to the men on those ships than a direct hit with a cruise missile. That's not the kind of welcome we want them coming home to. "

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Glancing down at the probably stale vending machine sandwich and breakroom mud-claimed-to-be-coffee, Tobias wished for the hundredth time that he could have gone out for another lunch break with Jethro, but he'd been expecting the doctors to finally release Cain's companion, into his, then Jethro's custody for close to an hour, and he'd been working the situation in every way he could to keep the young man out of the FBI lockup and in protective custody. With the young man not speaking and no absolute proof (being acknowledged at least) that Cain actually is a known assassin, though, it had been an uphill battle.

The only thing working in his favor had been that Jethro was a Federal Agent as well, and the very small handful of people who knew about their relationship had vested interests in not exposing what they knew. Abby, Ducky, David, and Walt.. being the few people whose vested interest rested on a sincere desire for his and Gibbs' welfare.

As if the thought conjured him up, the tips of David Rossi's shoes cut into view beneath the still unappetizing sandwich.

"I thought blue suede went out of style with Elvis." Tobias jibed looking up at his friend as David answered, glibly. "Not when they're Testoni's."

"And… you're sure you're not on the take?" Tobias retorted; while David and Tobias weren't the only ones in the agency who had a taste for Italian shoes and suits, the profiler was one of the few wealthy enough to indulge in the desire.

"No need to be when I actually have talent?"

The unspoken reference to Tobias's quickly discarded attempt to write ended their bantering as it usually did, with Tobias having the last word, but only out of habit: "Oh, I know, I'm surrounded by talented people; most of them can even answer the phone without hurting themselves. I'm lucky, though, and can get by on hard work."

"How are you two doing, Tobias?" The unspecific inclusion of Jethro was appreciated, and Tobias answered with a slightly warmer smile than he ever gives anyone outside of Jethro.

"Okay, this case is just more complicated than I expected it to be going into it, and …"

"You're referring to the young man you asked me about, yesterday?" David's eyes glinted with interest and Tobias nodded, gesturing toward a table. Here, let's go over there, so I can set this stuff down."

"Do yourself a favor, and trash it" David answered as he cast a disdainful sideways glance at the sandwich. "Come on out to lunch with me, we can expense it as a working lunch: I had several more questions about the young man, and Aaron is concerned as well. "

"You went back and talked to Hotchner about it?" Tobias almost groaned at the thought of having to deal with the former lawyer while making arrangements for Cain's companion.

"The whole team really. We'd like to interview him."

"You'd like to interview…. A mute?"

"But not physically mute. We're almost certain it's by choice and that we may be able to draw details from observing him that will help you in finding his partner."

"Cain's not his partner."

"So he has said something, or written something?” David questioned with interest.

“No, but when you have a lot of exposure to a functional mute, you pick up ways of reading them, and he's not Cain's partner. To be honest, I'm not sure what he is, but I have a pretty good idea."

"Don't tell us, it's better if we do get the chance to interview him, not to go in with preconceived notions."

"I haven't said yes, yet."

"But you will, I know you, Tobias, you want to know as much about him as you can before you hand him over to … your associate."

"Okay, let’s eat at the hospital, though. I'm expecting to hear from them anyway."

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Cain's companion was tucked into the back seat of David's car when the call came in.

Glancing down at the cellphone's screen, Tobias fought off the feeling of dread overtaking him at the sight of seeing the too-familiar NCIS number – that wasn’t Jethro’s. While Ducky was usually the one to call when Jethro's been hurt - when Abby called, it was almost always because Jethro had disappeared and not under his own volition.

David's concerned glance did little to offset the feeling, but Tobias waved the glance away, gesturing for them to pull out into the traffic. If Jethro was injured, they would have been taking him to Bethesda, not the Washington Medical center, and there was little to nothing that Tobias can do just sitting at the hospital.

"What is it, Abby?" Tobias pressed when she didn't start babbling: the fact that she wasn’t babbling set him even more on edge.

"It's… You've gotta get here, Fornell. You've gotta get here. Kate…. Kate's … Kate's" her voice choked with tears as she struggled to continue, "And the bossman… you've gotta get over here. He’s too quiet -- and being too nice to Tim, treating him with kid gloves-- and that just isn't how the bossman's supposed to be. I'm afraid that he's going to do something stupid, and not the drinking too much bourbon until he falls down the stairs and hurts himself kind of stupid, but the rushing into a whole warehouse full of terrorists alone with only his sig and no backup kind of stupid. She was standing right by him when ... her blood and her ... her ... her brains... they spattered on his face. You've gotta get here."

"I will, Abby. I promise; I'll get there as soon as I can. Just keep an eye on him, okay? And try to keep him busy until I get there so he doesn't have a chance to leave before …"

"Ducky's already doing that." Abby replies with a choky reassurance, before finishing with an urgent "Hurry up!"

"Drop me off at the Navy yard," he ordered, before glancing in the rearview window at Cain's companion.

"The man you met in the hospital, Agent Gibbs.” Tobias began, having to force the words out through a voice tight with anxiety: “He's the one who you were going to be staying with until we can get a few circumstances straightened out. He just lost a member of his team… someone under his command, and he’s taking it hard.”

The young man gaze held his eyes with a silent but understanding compassion - mirrored in the gentle hand that slid over the back of the seat between them to briefly brushed his hand across Tobias's shoulder before pulling back. Glancing over at David, Tobias asked the question with a quirked eyebrow, and David nodded – he’d seen the gesture.

“I'm afraid we're going to have to change plans. David, can you…?” David nodded before he could finish the sentence.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Tobias explained, carefully watching the young man for a reaction to what he was about to suggest. “I need you to stay with this man. His name is David Rossi: he's another FBI agent and will ensure you are protected."

Bringing both hands forward, Cain’s companion answered, in a simple but explicit agreement as he held them together, in front of David, wrist pressed to wrist as if waiting for the other man to cuff them.


	7. On Authority

"Wait here."ordered the dark-haired man that Fornell had told Pup he would need to go with, gesturing pup into the room ahead of him.

Pup nodded, and walked into the room, then turned back toward the man to see if there would be any other orders.

"I'll be back in a minute, but need to speak with Agent Hotchner to see how we're going to handle this; we had only anticipated an interview, not a stay."

The dark-haired man waited a moment, seemng to expect his response, so Pup nodded and turned back to the room.

The room was sparse, reminding Pup of his master's project room, holding only a table and five chairs, but not seams down the wall, to indicate the panels covering the inset shelves where his master kept his tools and supplies. Across from the table, an observation mirror sat flush to the wall, unframed or disquised in any other manner. His master had one similar, set into the wall between the sitting room and the hall from the kitchen to his bedroom and workroom. It was small, the size of a normal 'decorative' mirror, by design, encouraging any of his master's guests to overlook it as a potention viewing port, but was still large enough to offer a full view of the sitting and guest room beyond.

When others were present, Pup's expected place would have been standing at his master's shoulder, far enough away that he didn't interfere with his master's access to his weapons, but close enough that he would be able to step between his master and any threat to arise. When they were alone, he was to be kneeling by his master's chair unless otherwise instructed. In their apartment, if his master was not present, he was to stand to the left of the door when not serving his master's guests.

This, though, didn't fit any of the situations that he was familiar with ... had been given clear directions for; away from their home, without his master to guide him, neither in the company of guests nor enemies. Where was he supposed to stand? Beside the door would have been appropriate if it had been their apartment, but it wasn't ... it wasn't, and his master wasn't there. How could he place himself without his master as reference?

In the hospital, the expectations for how he was to behave were clear, even without his master's presence. The doctors and nurses told him exactly what they expected of him. The man called Fornell had asked him simple yes and no questions that weren't related to his master, having learned from enough unanswered questions that Pup would not answer anything that he could see was remotely related to his master, his master's whereabouts, or his masters business. Fornell had kept his lieutenant from harrassing Pup until the younger officer had been deemed well enough to be released for 'desk duty'... a phrase that still puzzled Pup, but other than that, Pup had been largely left to himself to 'rest and recover'.

Now, there were no cues available to follow. Surely they dark-haired man expected something of him, but what? He had said to wait, but did he mean the same thing as Pups master did when he said wait? That Pup should hold his exact position until order released by another order? Somehow, pup didn't think so, but with no other cue to follow, clung to the idea.

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"Derek?' Aaron Hotchner questioned the empathic profiler, as the younger man turned from the mirror.

"It's hard to say. He's not projecting very much, but I'm pretty certain that he was about to have a panic attack, after he looked around. "

"Do you think he's reacting to the current situation? Or is it a reaction to a past experience?" Aaron questioned watching the man who had seemed to settle into a meditative stance, where he stood, just inside the doorway, with his back still to the door.

"No, I don't think it's either one. I'm not certain what it was, yet, but I don't think he's afraid of being here..."

"He doesn't know where to put himself," Spencer Reid interrupted, knowing that neither man would mind, or worse ignore his interruption.

"What do you mean? There's a chair, right there. I saw him look at it." Derek objected.

"Yes, but he didn't look at it any differently than he did the table, observation mirror, window, or desk."

"Yeah, that was an odd reaction to the observation mirror; he didn't look at it the way people normally do, as if they're trying to figure out whether or whose watching them from behind it, almost as if it's common place. He could have sat down if he wanted to; I'm just wondering what he's hoping to gain by standing there with his back to the door."

"I'm not certain that he could sit in the chair, if he wanted." Reid answered softly as he stared at the other man in the mirror.

"Explain." Aaron demanded, his eyes flickering back to the mirror noticing that the meditiative man was so still, only the fact he was standing was proof of life.

"Okay, based on the Agent Fornell's report of Mr. Cain's apartment, there are several indicators that Cain is a controlling, authoritarian personality: his wardrobe falls in line with both the projection of a grandiose image and a preoccupation with appearances; certainly, the fact that he had set 32..."

"47 …" Aaron interrupted to update Reid's count of explosive charges that Cain had booby trapped his apartment with.

"47?"

"As of this afternoon's report: the bomb-squad located a workroom with over a dozen charges set."

"Right… okay, the point still stands though, the fact that he set 47 booby traps is a clear indicator of paranoia, as well as an absence of empathy. John Doe's injury shows that they were clearly meant to cause severe injury, as well as making a clear demarcation in their personalities, but I'll get to that in a second. Then there are the charged collar and cuffs that have been soldered in place on our John Doe, the bomb squad's report indicates that they can be detonated remotely, and Fornell himself suggested that John Doe may be aware of this. Although the report doesn't go into detail with regard to why he would believe this."

"That's a loaded one," Derek agreed, "It could be a threat of what Cain would do if John Doe tried to escape, coercion to keep his mouth shut, or …" Derek glanced uncomfortably back to the folder, not wanting to mention the other detail that had been noted in the medical and team reports.

Reid, true to form, didn't have any such compunction and continued, "combined with the minimal clothing and sexual paraphanelia that Doe was wearing when he was … injured and the fact that he cannot remove the cuffs and collar, jealousy is also a strong likelihood. They are quite symbolic as well. Then there's the medical team's report of Doe's behavior..."

"I read it, but I don't think that it's a good reference; they seem to feel that he is retarded, but I don't think so. They way he was studying the room, and his eyes... they don't look dull or disconnected: almost the opposite, I'd say." Derek commented, frowning when Reid retorted "exactly!" and Aaron could understand why.

He suspected he knew where Reid was going with this, but with Reid you could never be absolutely sure.

"You have to look at why they made the assumption that he was mentally deficient: that he wouldn't speak, that he had to be told how to sign their medical waivers, that he had to be told when to eat, when to get up and use the facilities, etc. They misinterpreted the fact that he wouldn't make his own decisions as a finding that he mentally couldn't make his own decision, which isn't entirely wrong but not for the reasons that they're atributting his inability to. "

It wasn't quite where he thought Reid was going with the comment, but not so entirely off that Aaron felt he was entirely off base, still just to be sure, Aaron asked for a confirmation: "sum it up for us Reid, what are you suggesting, that John Doe co-dependant with Cain."

"More than that: in 1957, Erich Fromm described an authoritarian personality as being focused on mastering and controlling another individual, making the individual a helpless object of his will, completely under his rule, to dispose of as he sees fit without limitations. He wrote that 'Humiliation and enslavement are just means to this purpose, and the most radical means to this is to make [the individual] suffer; as there is no greater power over a person than to make him suffer, to force him to endure pains without resistance'... I think that's what Cain's done: enslaved him by exerting his control so thoroughly over Doe that he's almost unable to act without direct order... even when separated from Cain. At least, when it comes to acting in his own benefit; I don't think it's actively co-dependant on his side though, or he wouldn't have intervened to protect Agent Fornell, not even knowing that Fornell could be killed because it would have been in direct conflict with his Cain's commands."

"If that's the case, how far do you think he can push his programming, if he can assert himself and risk his life to protect a stranger, can he be convinced to do so for himself, to testify against Cain if it will put the man away?" Aaron's question was directed at Derek, but it was open to any of the team.

Derek studied the man before he answered: "That's probably going to depend on how long Cain's had him captive, how far he had to 'break' Doe down to get him to submit, and what's out there for him to go home to."

"There's nothing left for him to go home to," Rossi answered grimly as he entered the observation room, closing the top folder in the stack as he handed it to Aaron, who read the name across the top and looked up at Rossi with disbelief.

"Anthony DiNozzo!?! You're joking."

"DiNozzo? Emily asked with a startled look, before he continued, "Isn't that the con-artist who seduced and bilked a number of Fifth Avenue Socialites out of millions and was shot by the jealous boyfriend of one of his marks?"

"Close enough," Rossi agreed. "but Fornell thinks that his brother-in-law, Vincenzio DiGabretsi, was behind it and that Cain was the hitman responsible."

"He was single though, wasn't he? Dating divorced men, wasn't the thing to do back then." Emily asked, wondering what the connection was going to be.

"No, he was a widower, I think, and there may have been something about a child drowned." J.J. disagreed softly, certain that she was remembering that much correctly. DiNozzo had been big news once upon a time."

"In a manner of speaking:" Aaron agreed, "25 years ago, 9 year-old Anthony DiNozzo Jr. was kidnapped and dumped in the ocean off Oahu with his nanny. After the nanny washed up on shore, he was declared dead on the likelihood that if she couldn't survive the swim he wouldn't have been able to either."

"So, is he a half-brother of something?" Derek asked, assuming that if DiNozzo had been seducing socialites, one of them might have gotten pregnant before the man was killed.

"Nope." Rossi denied, "I stopped by the lab on the way up and asked him to let us take a DNA swab, since for the time being he didn't seem likely to tell us who he was. He let us. Turns out, his profile was easy to find… in the Missing and Exploited Children's DNA databases. The man you're looking at is Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. The DNA match was exact."

Turning to stare at the still silent man in the observation room, their aghast silence only broken when Derek answered earlier question, "Hotch, there's probably a zero percent or less chance that we'll be able to convince him to turn on Cain, even to protect himself. Hell, we'll be lucky if he doesn't do Cain's job for him and ... tie up loose ends."

Startled by the statement, Aaron looked back at Derek, before following his gaze to one of DiNozzo's hands, which had drifted up during their conversation and was currently stroking the collar - almost subconsciously, reminding Aaron that they hadn't discovered whether there were any other ways to trigger the device.

Turning on his heel, he hurriedly stepped around Reid and picked up one of the reports from Fornell's team, handing off the DiNozzo file to Rossi until they discovered what might trigger the young man.

"Where are you going?" Rossi asked him as he hurried toward the door.

"To give him a distraction. The last thing we probably want right now is him thinking about his situation and what Cain might be thinking of it."


	8. Off Track

"Sit." Hotch commanded firmly as he stalked into the room, frowning as he heard the man's knees hit the floor beside him as he passed.

From the observation window, Derek, Spencer, and J.J. watched the supervisory agent begin to question DiNozzo, oddly ignoring the fact that the man was sitting prone on the floor with his legs tucked under him, his fingers folded into his palms, knuckles pressed flat just above the cap of his knees, and his chin pressed to the hollow between his collar bones. Despite Hotch's intimidating tone and manner, DiNozzo never raised his eyes or lifted his chin beyond what was required for the briefest of nods, or slight shake of his head, as appropriate.

As the questioning continued, Spencer shifted back and forth from foot to foot, seeming to become more and more agitated with each question, regardless of the fact that Hotch was keeping to pretty consequential stuff, primarily asking about the actions of Agents Fornell and Sacks' actions the afternoon they entered Cain's suite.

"Hey, Pretty Boy, " Derek coaxed, when he laid a hand on Spencer's shoulder to settle the younger man, "what's got you doing your Gregory Hines impersonation?"

"Gregory Hines?" J.J. questioned curiously, only seeming to recognize at Derek's wince what she had done.

"An actor, dancer, and choreographer, who began dancing semi-professionally at the age of five, with his older brother Maurice and later went on to study with choreographer Henry LeTang, and is considered to be the chosen successor to Sammy Davis Junior in terms of recognition for his proficiency in the black rhythmic tap genre. I believe, though, that Derek's analogy is more reflective of the fact that while he was highly recognized for this genre, Hines style was reflective of a mix of free-form experimentalism seen in the late eighties and early nineties jazz, new music, postmodern dance and characterized by an intentional obliteration of the traditional roots, rhythms, and tempos of the black tap genre. Sally Sommer, a noted historian of the genre described Hines' tap style as akin to throwing down a cascade of taps like pebbles tossed across the floor. While the majority of his acclaim emerged from this, Hines also had a short-lived run the lead singer and musician in a rock band called Severance from 1975 to ----"

"Reid!" Derek interrupted, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "Let's focus on the here and now, okay, Pretty Boy?" It really wasn't his fault after all, J.J. had been around long enough to know how prone Spencer was to tangents when rhetorical questions were asked.

"Okay," Spencer agreed easily, thankfully not taking offence.

"Good. Now, tell me what has you agitated enough to bounce back and forth like that." Derek directed, but held up a hand before Spencer could answer and added, "And not the physiology behind it, though I'm sure you know it, just tell me what it is about this case, this situation, or John Doe/DiNozzo that's bothering you. Okay?"

"Okay," Spencer agreed with a nod and turned back to watch Hotchner questioning DiNozzo as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts. After a moment though, he seemed to get distracted again, and Derek had to touch his shoulder again to get his attention.

"Come on, Man. Don't leave us hanging, what's going on up here?" Derek finished his question, tapping Spencer's temple lightly.

"Hotch… he's going about it all wrong. He's trying to profile DiNozzo and reflect the kind of authoritative figure that he thinks DiNozzo will respond to, but like you said, DiNozzo's been trained not to project his thoughts and emotions, so Hotch only has stereotypes to work with. He should be profiling Cain..."

"Without Cain here," Derek answered, defending Hotch's approach. "We don't have much to go on, outside of the placement of those charges and speculations based on Fornell's suspicions of his involvement with DiGabretsi… based on pretty circumstantial phone messages and an undisclosed third-party tip from someone that Fornell described as unlikely to have been a witness. If it weren't for those booby-traps, I'd have said he was grasping at straws."

"No." Spencer denied, turning and hurrying back to the conference room table. "We know a lot more than that. … … … Authoritarian personalities exhibit a marked desire for security, order, power, and status. Cain not only desires structured lines of authority, but demands unquestioning obedience. Normally, there is a co-occuring tendency to be hostile toward or use as scapegoats individuals of minority or nontraditional groups, but that does not seem to be the case with DiNozzo, while his name suggests an Italian heritage, the visual traces of his heritage are quite diluted, which seems to be a key factor in this assignment... but Adorno, in the 1950's suggested that the social environment influences the expression of an authoritarian individual's expression of prejudice. His social environment ... his environment... where are the pictures of Cain's suite?"

Digging out the correct file from the stack on the table, Derek handed the envelope of photos to Spencer and watched curiously as Spencer laid them out in a semi- circle and studied them carefully.

Give me a clue here, Reid. What are you looking for?"

"At, actually, would be closer to the case." Spencer answered unhelpfully.

"Okay, at. What are you looking at?"

"His environment… or more precisely what it says about the social strata he identifies with, how he defines power… An Eileen Gray Dragon chair, probably closer to 1917 than 1919 … possibly a replica but a high end one if so, and look in this photo: if I'm not mistaken a Tufft table, the entire table's carved by hand from a single piece of of wood including the pierced fretwork. That one's not a replica, the ankles are to narrow to be. A glass-topped Parnian lap desk... they have to be ordered two years in advance. Aristocratic... spartan, but well dripping with pretension and condescension. Cain wants his visitors to know how expensive their surroundings are and by extension how wealthy he is. Otherwise, you would see similar pieces throughout the apartments, but especially in the bedroom."

"What makes you think that?" J.J. questioned.

"His key displays of furniture are all in the receiving room... While there are a number of high-end furniture items throughout the apartment, but especially in the bedroom, the pieces for the receiving room stand out. Unless I'm mistaken, he's filled that room with pieces that are not only very recognizable but that have, also, made the news for being expensive."

"Elitest," Derek agreed, now seeing where Spencer was going with his comments. "Cain wants the opportunity to inspire envy or look down on visitors, who don't recognize the furniture around him. Yeah, I can see that. He's trying to create an appearance of class and ... to camouflage his external activities?"

"No, I don't think so. I think that's more of an extension of the obsession that Fromm described: Cain feels the compulsion to exert such complete power over a person as to make the individual suffer, without the possibility of resistance. The assassinations would be a quick, but too-temporary satiation of that desire, which wouldn't last and wouldn't support the mantle of refinement that Cain trying to entrench himself in. But servitude and slavery predate written history, and Aristocrats have a similarly long history of servants, standing by silently, waiting to serve their smallest needs from grooming and dressing them to maintaining their households."

Derek considered Spencer's comments, nodding as he stared at the photos, before he continued on Spencer's train of thought: "A simple servant wouldn't be enough to satisfy Cain's obsession, though. Cain would want someone he could control completely… not through blatant intimidation and violence, that would destroy the cultured and 'refined' image he want's to present. If we're right about Cain...."

Derek was already lifting his hand when Spencer's head shot up, a quick flash of doubt and hurt crossing his face at the assumption that Derek thought he was wrong, "Not that I think we're wrong, but until we have more solid evidence it's better to treat our conclusions as conjecture, at least temporarily... With that in mind, let's let Hotch do his thing, while we work on delivering Cain's profiles."

"Profiles?" J.J. arched her eyebrow, as she asked, "On DiNozzo and Cain?"

No, as I was saying, I think Reid's right about Hotch's approach, and about Cain. Let Hotch handle DiNozzo. Rossi, J.J, get with Penelope, see what else you can find in addition to Fornell's reports on Cain, and work up a profile from what you find. Let's keep our profiles separate and as unbiased as we can. Reid... let's go take a look at Cain's suite. See if we can't pick up more from the site than the bomb team did when they took those snapshots."

Spencer glanced between Derek and the observation window, with a pensive stare, not moving quite as quickly as Derek had expected, given that he had basically given Spencer the leeway to "investigate and explicate his hypothesis", something that usually motivated the younger agent into quick action.

"What's going on, Genius?" Derek questioned, stopping J.J. and Rossi in their tracks as they turned to see what was behind Spencer's hesitation.

"Studies consistently suggest that associative processes are important in the way people perceive risks: in fact associative processes in risk perception may have developed because this immediate approach avoidance response increases chances of survival ... saving cognitive workload by functioning as a heuristic, where the perceived riskiness of a known risk acts as an index to the potential risk of a new or unknown risk."

"Okay, that's about as clear as three day old coffee." Derek sighed as he started to parse out Spencer's comment.

"Reid's implying that he's having a gut feeling, presumably a negative gut feeling, about leaving Hotch with DiNozzo in the interrogation room..." Rossi explained with a slightly snide trace that Derek really needed to talk to him about. It's been beyond obvious for a while that Rossi doesn't get Spencer, but he seriously needed to lighten up on the disdain.

Spencer's sheepish expression is all the confirmation Derek needed; he suppressed the momentary urge to ask, "why didn't you say so," knowing it would only lead to another tangent, and likely make Spencer feel a bit alienated in the process. Nodding, he ordered, "Okay then, you keep watch. I'll call from the suite."

Spencer immediately looked relieved and shot him a quick grateful smile as he grabbed his jacket to go. When he turned though, Rossi's arched brow and skeptical expression were really to opportune to ignore: "What?"

"A gut-feeling?"

"Hey, Man, when a genius, with a 186 I.Q. whose mind runs with more fact more facts, details, and statistics - on idle - then either of us will probably learn in our life times - combined, says that he has a gut feeling about something, I'm willing to bet that it's something worth paying attention to. Now, let's get to it folks."

Without another word, Derek headed out.

Looking back for Spencer or Rossi's reactions would have been to much of a tip off that his statement was for more than one purpose.


	9. Family Ties

While limousines had hardly become passe in Washington, they were often as common as taxis stopping in front of federal office buildings.

As a result, when the surreptitiously placed, plain-clothed entrance-observation guard (sipping watered-down coffee at his usual seat in the open air cafe across from the Hoover building) watch the Merc GL450 pull up to the curb and a passenger door open in invitation barely a yard away from the man he had been observing, the guard tapped the app button that would downgrade the man's image from a 'potential threat' to the 'monitored pedestrians' status, and turned his attention away from the gentleman as he paused at the limo's door and focused his gaze on the guard noticeably enough that the guard pulled the image back up and tapped a different button to change the category from pedestrian to 'operative': another quantity seen almost as frequently as taxis in Washington. 

Although pleased to be so easily written off by the FBI security team, David Cain was having a great deal of trouble suppressing his temper as he slid into the primary passenger seat beside Talia Al Ghul.

"Ras, Ziva, Talia," David greeted his family with a barely suppressed growl. "This is surprising; not, of course, that you would anticipate my presence here, but that you would elect to meet with me in person, here, instead of summoning me to your offices."

"Would you have come?" Ras questioned with a mildly dismissive note. "And please, let us go by our private names: many exist in the league, who remember that you, too, hold the title of Ras Al Ghul, and moreover that you were our father's chosen, not I. There would be less confusion."

"I am not confused, nor as you are aware, have I used that title since I walked out of the kidon, our father's blood not yet dry on my hands. Speaking of absent family, where is Ari, may I ask?"

"Of course, of course, but as with Talia, who is recognized only as Talia Al Ghul to the outside world, a world that believes Tali Uela David perished in a Hamas bombing, her public name does not change the fact that she is my cherished daughter, nor that you,Itai Ben David, are my beloved brother."

"I was referring to our shared title, Ras Al Ghul." David refuted, smiling thinly at his half-brother's deflect, "As I believe you realize. Your distraction was rather ineffective, if you hoped to side track me from the question, Eli. Where is my nephew? Where is Ari?"

"He has been tasked with an assignment that he will ultimately fail at..." Eli paused to tap on the window separating them from the driver and nodded to the daughter beside him as the car pulled over and stopped. 

At his gesture, Ziva leaned in to kiss her father on the cheek then across the space between them to press a kiss to David's cheek before sliding out of the limousine. 

When the door closed behind them, and the limousine pulled away from the curb, Talia smirked at her father, and teased, "Abba-leh is match-making."

Arching an eyebrow at the odd statement, David waited in silence as Eli glanced out the window, his discomfort not showing in his expression, but evident in the gesture, at least, to the man who'd known him all of his life. 

"Ari has accepted an assignment to remove an American Federal Agent, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, an individual, whom I have an alternative purpose for." Eli answered shortly. 

"What Abba's not saying is that Gibbs is a fitting match for Ziva, and Ari has become troublesome of late. So he wishes to use this as an opportunity to get Ziva closer to the man he would choose for her."

"I had warned you when Ari was young that the path you were setting him on was not wise, Eli." David chastised, remembering how the bitter young boy he'd trained had taken far too much enjoyment out of his kills, and dragging the target's suffering out far more than necessary.

"Yes, אח, I should have listened, but he has well-served the league's purposes on many assignments, and time cannot be turned back."

"No, it cannot." David agreed, before asking, "What is so fitting about this Gibbs, and why would you choose him over one of the Kidon?"

"Agent Gibbs is the operative responsible for Anatoly Zhukov, and has proven fiercely loyal to those whom he values. With regard to why... Does it truly bear questioning why I would not choose outside our people, Itai? Talia is intended to take over the mantle of Ras Al Ghul after me and rule the Kidon and Sayeret while Ziva will hold office as the Mossad Director in my place and lead the Aman and Shin Bet. But consider the natures of our people, if either of my daughters were to take a spouse from among our circles, who would the people look to- they or their spouses? Who would have the power? By choosing from outside, there will be no conflict for power."

"I see, whom have you chosen for Talia, then?"

"Oh, Talia has chosen for herself, Itai, an American industrialist, whom I believe you are well-acquainted with, and no doubt approve of, given that you entrusted him with your own daughter." Eli smirked insufferably as David caught his breath turning to stare at Talia in shock. 

"Wayne?!?" 

"Yes," Talia agreed with a soft humorous smile, "Bruce seems very compatible and more to the point has no interest in confining me to a traditional role, nor interest in taking over the league. Also, it would give me closer access to watch out for and protect my little cousin."

"I see." David finally answered, not quite certain what to say in response. 

Talia had been one of the few friendships that he had permitted Cassandra when she was young and training to be the ultimate assassin and 'Ubu' (bodyguard and traditional companion to Ras Al Ghul) that he had hoped to install at his younger brother's side. He had often wondered whether she would have been to Eli, what 'Pup' now was to him, had he denied her that friendship with Talia, who herself had only recently overcome her inherent compassion through decades of exposure to the near constant Palestinian / Israeli conflict. 

With thoughts of Pup returning to his mind, David finally asked the question that he'd been asking himself since Pup had triggered the microphone and transmitter in his cuffs and collar: Ari was following your instruction when he betrayed my location to the FBI. What purpose was Ari serving to the league when he did this?"

"As I said, Brother," Eli answered grimly, "many exist in the league, who remember that you, too, hold the title of Ras Al Ghul... who remember that you were our father's chosen successor and that as tradition demands that you bested our father in the duel to take his title with his life... and in doing so, have a more legitimate claim to the title than I. There are many who view me, solely, the puppet holding the throne until you return to take up the mantle. Talia's way path to succession will never be cleared so long as this belief persists."

"Those who remember the duel, should also remember that I declared you Ras Al Ghul before the quorum and walked the gauntlet to separate from the Kidon... that I have followed your direction and taken the roles and assignments you have given.."

"Yet, at the same time you take on the trappings of Ras Al Ghul, even in the choice of your public name, David Qayin... Qayin, the first assassin, the man who killed his own brother. Certainly you can see how certain factions in the league might misread this."

"No, Cain killed his brother, where I killed to protect mine. Or would you have preferred that I left you banished - the unspoken target - and Rivka in the 'Pit" until your death. Is that where you would have wished Talia born? And what trappings have I taken on?"

"Do you know what those league members, who know of your companion's existence, call DiNozzo?"

David shook his head in response, surprised speechless that his brother had been able to correctly identify Pup. He had never mentioned where he had found the boy and had assumed that Eli had believed Pup was just one of the many street children he had 'gathered' and trained to join the league.

"While you may call him 'Pup', those who know of him, within the guild, call your companion 'Ubu' and know that you have refused to turn him over to me as you have done with all of the others barring your daughter, but that of course, is viewed as a different matter. Certainly, you can see how this is misinterpreted?"

"So this was a play - to what?" David asked harshly, momentarily losing control of his temper, "Take Pup from me? Is he to be delivered to you and sent to the far reaches? Or kept chained to your bedside? He has not been trained in such a way that he could be passed off as a personal assistant, nor willing to kill without sufficient provocation so could not be brought into Kidon. Just what are your plans for Pup?"

"Itai, you misunderstand, my plans are not for him. It is sufficient that he is separated from you. As you say, he was not trained to be my Ubu; his provocation to kill would not be in defense of my life, nor would he follow my command if you were present. It would do nothing to dismiss these misconceptions to have others witness a lowly personal servant looking to you for instruction, instead of myself. However, so long as he is at your side and you distance yourself from my shadow, taking the name you do - you prolong the beliefs of these factions. Come home, Itai. Return to training the future generations of the league, take back your private name, and no further actions shall be taken. Let this be your aliyah, Itai."

When David remained silent, Eli tapped the window again, ordering their driver to pull over once more, commenting only, "It was good to see you, Brother" as David stepped back from the limousine.

David nodded and closed the closed the door, turning away to see that he had been dropped off beside his rental car. 


	10. Kishi Kaisei

Spencer startled slightly when he felt a sudden presence that beside him.

How had that happened? 

He normally never missed noticing when someone came close enough to touch him: an instinct he'd learned from his earliest memories of interacting with anyone other than his mother (childhood bullies, impatient adults who'd rather push him out of the way than listen, and his father...especially his father... who never allowed anyone but Spencer to see his dark nature and appetites). 

Dismissing the question, Spencer turned to offer a greeting and immediately took a swift step back.

The man beside him was immense: taller than Derek by at least three inches, bulkier as well, but despite the camouflaging effects of the expensively-tailored business suit the man wore, it was obvious from his over all build that his bulk was entirely from muscle. His hair was prematurely white and trimmed into a military-short cut that matched his over all build and stance. His size and bearing weren't the factors that intimidated Spencer, however. Instead, it was the almost palpable feeling of being in danger that Spencer felt in being so close to the man.

Spencer has never believed in the idea that people 'gave off vibes', 'had an aura of' some quality or 'an air about them' - preferring to believe that the observers making comments of that nature were simply poorly skilled in articulating the less obvious evidence that they might be relying on to assess another's nature.

He had, before that moment, been absolutely confident that it was a weakness he would never suffer from, not only having been blessed/cursed with an eidetic memory as well as a tendency to notice and categorize minute details roughly seventeen times faster than the trained observer's average- according to an informal study he and Jason had once performed out of curiosity. Nevertheless, in that instant, his confidence on that ability utterly failed him, as he took two more steps back from the man with no more reason than a feeling of a having a predator looming over him.

Seeming to interpret his retreat as due deference, the man smiled a stern humor-less smile that would have reminded Spencer of Hotch if it weren't so disturbingly chill and instructed "Tell your supervisor that the man he is...interrogating (The word came out as a sneered mocking question, silently referring to the visibly obvious fact that no matter what Hotch asked, Dinozzo remained doggedly silent.) has legal representation, and the interview is to cease immediately so that I may consult with my client."

"Of course," Spencer agreed, moving further away, before pausing to inquire, "But can I ask how this might have been arranged, as to my knowledge, the ... witness has neither spoken to anyone nor otherwise made any attempt to arrange legal representation."

"That's a matter of lawyer-client privilege. Now, deliver the message."

As soon as Spencer was by the corner between the window to the interview room and the hall leading into the interview room door, he pulled out his cellphone, and used the phone's camera to take a quick picture around the edge of the corner. When he turned the phone's screen back into his view, he was completely unnerved to see that the man had been looking directly in the direction of the phone's lense as he snapped the picture - completely aware and visibly disdainful of Spencer's attempt to take his photo. 

Deciding to wait until after the man was engaged with DiNozzo to send the photo to Garcia, Spencer rushed into the room, and apologized for interrupting before going on to explain about the man claiming to be DiNozzo's lawyer. 

Turning to DiNozzo, Hotch commented to the still silent man, "I want you to understand that even if our visitor was hired to be your attorney, you do not have to follow his advice if you believe for any reason that it would be against your interest to do so. Also, while you have not been formally charged, you are being questioned as a material witness to the illegal use of explosives. This interview has not been finished, and I will ask you not to attempt to leave this room or this building, regarless of anything he may say to you. Also, if you need anything, anything at all, Spencer and I will be just outside the window. Do you understand?"

DiNozzo nodded but didn't look up. 

"Okay, Reid. Come on." Hotch turned Spencer with a hand on his shoulder and kept it on his shoulder until they were out the door and Hotch was turning him back. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, scanning Spencer's face with a concerned gaze. 

"Yeah, I'm okay, but we probably shouldn't keep him waiting." 

"Did he threaten you, or ..."

"No, No. Nothing like that. I need to check something out, but I think it would be better to wait until he's in with DiNozzo before checking it out."

"What's worrying you? You can check it out afterward, but I want an idea of what I might be running into."

"I don't have any proof."

"Reid!"

"I think Cain's posing as his lawyer. I don't have proof, but..."

"Okay, I'll deal with this. Send Pendegrast to guard DiNozzo, and have Garcia run his photo from the security cameras against any image she can dig up of the man, and Spencer, tell her to be ready to put us on lockdown if he tries anything."

"Yes Sir; I'm on it." Spencer answered quickly and hurried to the other Pendegrast's desk, to send the man as Hotch's back up, before rushing down the hall to Garcia's office. 

He sent the image and a quick text, ahead of him, for Garcia to get started on, and stopped to dial Derek. 

"What's up, Pretty Boy? We barely two blocks away." Derek answered in an amused tone. 

"I think you need to get back here, fast." Spencer ordered his friend, despite Derek's seniority. 

"Why, has DiNozzo started talking or acting up?"

"No, I'm not sure, and Garcia's checking it out, but... I think Cain's here, and trying to get into see DiNozzo. Hotch has Billy watching DiNozzo and sent me to check him out with Garcia, but I think the rest of the team should be here, too. Just in case." Spencer couldn't help but wonder if it Derek would pick up what he wasn't saying. 

Rossi and J.J. were downstairs with Garcia, but Spencer really wouldn't feel as secure if Derek, and Prentiss, (but mostly Derek) weren't there to back Hotch up. 

"Turning around now, be there in three." Derek promised before the phone went dead.


	11. Qayin

The guard standing at the door was immaterial to Itai Ben David as he entered the interrogation room, his gaze focused solely on his former student. Relief and irritation warred in equal measures as he moved over to the young man and studied the figure sitting at his feet with superficial disdain. 

For the first time in many years, his pup had knowingly disobeyed the protocols he had been trained to follow without thought, confirming for David what he had suspected but never known for certain: Tony had recognized the suicide pill for what it was; and moreover, when there had been no clear threat to David's life, his pet had chosen his own life over his loyalty to David, a sin that, in David's mind, would have been unforgivable in any other circumstance. 

If they were back in one of their many havens, the choice would have earned Tony hours of punishment, despite the fact that his pet had kept the receiver active for the entirety of his capture. Having listened in, much of that time, David knew that he had not been betrayed in any other manner by Tony, at least. Ari ... was another matter. 

Nevertheless, David was not in the habit of ignoring conflicting impulses and recognized that he was not untouched by the fact that his pet had chosen life, especially given the meeting with Eli and David's subsequent decision regarding his pet. A decision that David had not entirely come to terms with despite the fact that outside of the one broken protocol, Tony was clearly trying to adhere to the other lessons he had been taught and would have been forgiven, eventually. 

Snapping his fingers sharply, David smiled as Tony's eyes jerked up in surprise before returning to the floor. 

"You seem surprised, Pup." He commented, pitching his voice so that the guard wouldn't hear as he asked, "Did you truly think there was anywhere they could take you that I could not reach? Knowing as you do, the nature of my 'work' and those whom I have reached in the performance of it? Or, did you believe I would simply walk away from a pet I have invested so much time and effort into training, without looking backwards? Hmmm."

Picking up the anger in his tone, Tony shivered under his gaze but held position. 

"I see that you did, foolish Pup. Had I the time, I would see to it that you understood the depth of your mistake; however, that will wait until later. In the meantime, there are other matters to address, not the least of which is what I expect from you next. I am willing to withhold both my judgement and punishment for your errors, but only if you offer the obedience that you have been trained for. Do you understand?"

Tony whimpered a soft affirmative, having no other way of answering without receiving permission to shift.

"We'll see. The last time I had barely left you an afternoon before you failed to remember your training."

Tony's hand jerked convulsively to his collar, but aborted the movement when David slashed his hand to the side in a sharp command. 

"That will be dealt with later, Pup. For now, I expect a different form of obedience. I have heard that you are to be delivered to Leroy Gibbs, I wish you to cooperate with their decision and watch over the man. My nephew Ari has been tasked to kill him, and I wish to see Ari fail at his task. In fact, you are to stay with Agent Gibbs, guard and serve him as you have me, and watch over his people until I return for you. I will return, but my brother has informed me that there are matters I must deal with before I can settle back into our customary lifestyle... matters I cannot deal with properly - with you present."

Before David had finished his explanation, his pet had stiffened at the realization that they were going to be parted for an indefinite length of time and was keening quietly, almost under his breath. 

"Enough." David snapped, quietly "Is this how poorly I have trained you?" 

His pet immediately went silent, but David was more than ready to leave and bit out a parting command before heading back to the door and the frowning guard, "Don't disappoint me again."

As the door closed behind him, David murmured, "Goodbye, Tony," certain that he would not be seeing his pet again if Eli had his way, and probably not for several years, even if David was both careful and successful in his dealings. His opening gambit, alone, preempting his brother's plans for Gibbs, Ari, and Ziva was risky, but the best alternative available given his pet's skills and tactical weaknesses. 

Ziva would simply have to find another way to secure Gibbs' affections, and if she could not, Eli would be better served to choose another suitor. 

"Mr. Cain?" 

David turned to face the grim-faced dark-haired agent, whom the younger frightened agent had rushed to when David announced his presence.

"Agent?"

"SSA Hotchner."

"Agent Hotchner, my name is Itai Ben David, as I am certain you have already been told by whomever you have had researching the photo your agent," David paused to nod to the skittish younger agent hovering roughly a yard behind his superior before continuing, "took and emailed; however, I will concede that I 'look after' Mr. Cain's affairs and counsel his ... employees as needed."

"Are you implying that DiNozzo was simply an employee? I'm certain you realize that type of employment is illegal."

"Mr. Cain and Mr. DiNozzo's personal arrangement is not a matter I am prepared to discuss with you, nor the nature of my counsel to Mr. DiNozzo. With that said, if you have any other questions, make an appointment. I'm sure your analyst has my contact information."

In the background, the younger agent was questioning someone urgently and staring at him with suspicion as David pressed the elevator button. When the elevator arrived, two other agents, no doubt called in for back up by the skittish novice, stepped out and David stepped in, smiling as he heard the agent protest, "He's Cain, Hotch, I'm sure of it," and the older agent's admission, "I know, Reid, but without evidence..."

The doors closed all to soon, cutting off David's amusement as he turned his thoughts to the next matter at hand - finding his nephew.


	12. Irecconcilable

Abby was waiting just inside the metal detectors for Tobias and set off the body scanner’s alarms when she tackled him before he’d had the chance to retrieved his badge. He wasn’t particularly surprised when the guards waved him through and reset the alarms before allowing new arrivals through. Pushing her gently back as he moved through the scanner’s arc, Tobias shook her head as she simply shuffled back not releasing him from the hug even a centimeter.

“I’m so glad you came. It’s so awful. Kate. Someone shot Kate, and she was standing right beside him when she was shot, and he told Ducky that she’d just saved him, too. That she took a shot for him but that it had hit her vest, and everything had been over or seemed like it when pow, and she’s dead, and I know the bossman’s mad, really, really, mind blowing mad, but he’s not acting like he is, he’s acting nice, and not the kind of nice he acts like when he doesn’t tell Jimmy to shut up even though you can see sometimes that he really, really, really wants to, but the kind of nice that I don’t know he’s never been this kind of nice before, and it’s really, really, really, really freaking me out and I know it’s because Kate’s dead but that doesn’t make sense because he should be acting mad and scary and silent and he’s not, so you’ve gotta talk to him and make him stop being nice, well not - not being nice- but not being the scary kind of nice, which is what he’s being, okay? You can do that can’t you?”

“Abby… Abby,” Tobias called trying to interrupt her almost hyperventilating stream-of-conscious pleading before he finally raised his voice barking “Abby!” as he shook her with a brief but firm shake.

“Oh, Fornell, I’m so glad you’re here. Wait, what are you doing here? You need to be with the bossman. He needs to see you, now!” She ordered pushing away from him so quickly that she would have lost balance if he hadn’t reached out to catch her, which she interpreted as an invitation for another hug and half-tackled him again, thanking him for coming before she pulled back and pushed him away again, with a shooing motion, aiming him toward the hall that he recognized as leading to the morgue and labs. 

“I’ll take care of him.” He promised, but he could see the knowledge in her eyes that no matter how hard he tried, he could only be as successful in protecting Jethro as his lover would allow.

"Go. He's with Ducky and McGee, but be nice to McGee because ... well it's a secret, but just be nice to him."

"I promise Abby." Tobias agreed as he guided her back into her lab with a gentle turn on her elbow as he passed the door. 

The chill he felt entering the morgue only deepened as Agent McGee, Dr. Mallard, and Gibbs turned toward him - the only sign of tolerance, much less welcome on Dr. Mallard's face. 

Before giving Tobias the chance to offer his sympathies, Gibbs stared at him stonily, and growled, "If you're here to take over the case, Fornell, you can forget it." 

Stung by the coldness of his Gibbs' tone, glare, and the use of his last name, especially after Abby had claimed that he had been behaving uncustomarily kindly toward her and McGee, at least, Tobias frowned, shaking his head.

"I'm not here for that, Jethro. Excuse me Dr. Mallard, Agent McGee, I need to speak with Agent for a moment."

"Do you have news on Cain or Ari?"

"Nothing yet." 

"Then there's nothing to say that can't wait." Gibbs bit out. 

"Timothy, would you care to join me for a cup of tea?" The coroner offered, breaking the stalemate as he steered the younger agent back to his office.

"Walk me to my car, Jethro," Tobias interrupted injecting enough steel in his voice to make it clear that it was the only way he would be leaving. 

"Damn it, To-" Jethro started, before cutting himself off with a growled, "Fine."

The simmering tension between them continued the all the way into the elevator and only became more tangible as the doors closed behind them. 

"Jethro..." Tobias began in a coaxing tone, but Gibb's glare cut him off before he could comment further. 

"I'm not planning to return to the house tonight." The segue, to Tobias, seemed to come out of nowhere, and caused him to pause as he tried to anticipate where Jethro was going. 

"No, I hadn't expected you would. Have you had anything to eat, I can..."

"Not why I was saying it, Tobias." Gibbs tone hadn't softened by even as much as a nanometer, warning Tobias, even before the words themselves, of Gibb's direction...

"Door's open, and I don't expect to go back until tomorrow night at the earliest. If you need more time to get your stuff out, let me know."

"I know you think pushing me away will help protect me if you go off the reservation, but you're misguided, and the only thing that will do is leave your six open. And, don't tell me that you'll have the rookie watching your back; that's worse than not having anyone watching your back because your attention will be split between watching out for him and watching out for yourself." 

"If that were all was, yeah, it'd take some time, but I'd try to make it work; but there's more an you know it, Tobias. One of my agents is dead, and we were minutes away from finding him, if we'd had even a few more hours he would have had him. Hours, Tobias. We were that close. Hours, and you knew for a week. Forgive me, if I can't help but thinking that Kate would still be alive if you'd given us those hours."

"You don't know that," Tobias protested defensively but without much conviction. It was a thought that he'd been dwelling on, himself, throughout the ride over.

"No, not for sure, but it's the wondering that would do us in. Trust me on that." The finality in his tone was more than enough to convince Tobias that he wouldn't get anywhere arguing it. 

Deciding to fight with actions instead of words, Tobias slammed the emergency stop button and turned to grab the back of Gibbs head pulling them close until there foreheads were pressed together. Jethro resisted, staying stiff and unyielding, even as Tobias pressed a soft, chaste kiss on Jethro's unsmiling lips. Even though there was no response, after he broke the kiss, Tobias whispered, "I'm not giving up that easily" and stepped back to curse as his phone vibrated. 

Gibbs snorted and pulled back out of his hold, to punch the elevator's button for the entry level. 

"Answer the phone, Tobias."

"This isn't over, Jethro." Tobias argued even as he grabbed for the phone on his hip.

"Answer the damn phone." 

Ignoring Gibbs' growl, Tobias snapped into the phone, "This better be good."

"Agent Fornell, this is SSA Hotchner. We've had some developments on your case."

"Tell me."

"First, there's a good chance we've had a visit from your suspect, and second, we've id'd..."

"Wait, Cain was there."

"We believe so, but don't have any identifying information to compare it to, unless you release a copy of the tapes from your DiGabretsi case. While it's circumstantial, your John Doe's identity is too closely linked to your case to be a coincidence; he's Anthony DiNozzo, your victim's son and DiGabretsi's missing nephew. We believe Cain has had him since his disappearance or close to it, and raised him as a personal slave."

"You're not serious, DiNozzo?"

"Do they have him in custody?" Gibbs interrupted angrily.

"I heard him," Agent Hotchner answered immediately, "and no, he came through security using an alias, as DiNozzo's lawyer; without anything to contradict it, we didn't have enough to hold him."

"What did he..." Tobias started to ask but broke off when the doors opened and Gibbs pulled him out of the elevator car with a demanding grip on his shoulder. "Actually, I'm coming in."

"I'll drive." Gibbs ordered.

"The hell you will." Tobias rebutted, marginally relieved at the turn of events. Gibbs might want to keep him out of the investigation, but this landed it firmly in his lap.


	13. Adrift

Knowing that he had already disappointed his master, Pup felt torn as his master left the room. His master's absence, even before he left the room, felt like a ripping pain tearing something essential out of him. He wanted to run after his master, but he'd already been scolded once and in no way wanted to incur additional punishment. 

Staying behind, though, meant that he was alone, without guidance, at least until the dark haired man and the man that Fornell had called David turned him over to Agent Gibbs.

He hated being alone. It was worse than punishment. Almost worse. He hated his master's punishments. Nothing was worse than a punishment. 

But being alone, worse being alone for indefinite lengths of time gave him time to think after he finished his assigned tasks, time he didn't want. He knew that the work his master did wasn't safe. They had been attacked enough times that Pup was well aware of the danger his master faced. When his master was away for too long, Pup would begin to worry whether his master was safe or injured. Worse he would get restless, and the longer his master was away the more restless he would get. 

He knew there was no chance that he could find his master once he was gone. Many years had passed since his master permitted Pup to join him when he left the apartment, only taking pup out by limo to a private airfield whenever his master decided to realocate. They had visited dozens of cities that pup had never seen beyond the shadowy images barely visible through the limo's smoked glass windows. He would be lost the minute he was out the door. 

The thought was too much for Pup, and he was off the floor and at the door in the span of two breaths. The guard, though surprised, did nothing to stop him, only following him out as Pup turned in the direction he'd heard his master's footsteps go and rushed down the hall. The elevator doors were closing on a brief glimpse of his master's frown by the time he reached the thin, youngest agent's side. 

Frozen in place, Pup watched numbly until the elevator returned, loaded with the younger male and female agents who had left earlier, all armed and on alert with their weapons drawn- taking the choice of following his master out of his hands. Even if he stood a chance of catching up with his master, he wasn't willing to risk leading them back to his master. 

Beside him, he could hear the guard and the younger agent speaking, but their words were vague and indistinct over the pounding of his heart and the whine building in his throat. 

"Pup?" The youngest agent asked, getting Pup's attention with a hand on his arm. 

Remembering himself, Pup dropped to his knees casting his eyes to the ground. His master wanted him to behave for the agents and do what he could to be sent to Agent Gibbs, which meant following their orders, so long as the orders weren't contradicted by his master's standing orders. 

"Hey, no, that's okay, you don't have to do that." The agent protested the move sounding shocked and distressed as he pulled at Pup's arm. "It's okay, you don't have to do those things any more." 

Pup ignored the agent's prompts, not only was the young man clearly subordinate to the older dark-haired agent, the agent who'd introduced himself as Agent Hotchner, and the others who had just arrived. More than that, though, he couldn't let them contradict the rules he had been trained to follow. His master had been clear that Tony was to serve to the same standard as he served his master, and Pup had already failed twice. 

"Hotch, I think... I don't think he'll listen to me." The younger agent called plaintively to the senior agent.

"Just a minute, Spencer." The older agent answered off-handedly as he finished speaking with the guard and turned to the agents who had just arrived. "Morgan work with Pendegrast and Reid to get as much detail for the profile as you can; J.J. get everything you can on Cain from Fornell's team, Prentiss a moment?" 

The two walked into a glass cased observation room and closed the door. Watching from the corner of his eye, Pup could only sight-read a few of Agent Hotchner's words before the senior agent seemed to suspect his observation and turned away.

'Your', 'contacts', 'chatter', 'federal agent'... far from enough to know what they were discussing.

Agent Hotchner returned several minutes later, snapped his fingers for Pup's attention, and gestured for Pup to stand and follow. Pup complied immediately, and followed Hotchner back to the room he had been in before. 

"I will explain this again and this time, I expect you to listen. You have not been formally charged, but this is only a courtesy because you put yourself at risk to protect Agent Fornell; you are not cleared of any or all charges you may yet face, as an accessory after the fact, including the illegal use of explosives, conspiracy to commit murder against a Federal Agent. You have been asked not to attempt to leave this room and will be detained if you attempt to do so again before this interview has been finished. Do you understand?"

Pup nodded quickly and dropped to his knees as the agent signed for him to stay. 

~~~

Emily Prentiss left FBI headquarters frowning. Most of the time, Hotch seemed to ignore that she'd had pretty extensive field involvement overseas, and hadn't asked her to call on any markers before. She didn't mind, especially in the cause of saving another agent's life; but it was a part of her life whe would have been happier to leave behind. 

Dialing the first of the numbers she hoped would have the information she wanted, Emily greeted, "Dobryj dyen! Kak vy pozhivayete?" when the phone picked up on the first ring and after a mild negotiation asked, "I'm interested in any chatter you hear about an a foriegn operative named Ari or a contract on an NCIS agent name of Gibbs." 

To her surprise, the Russian had quite a bit to say about the recent chatter on both subjects and confirmed some suspicions Emily had held for years, but no evidence to support. Taking short fast notes, Emily quickly narrowed the list of contacts she'd call next before hanging up with "A vyelikolyepno. Da. Spaseeba. Das Vadanya." 

Her next call was answered just as quickly with a curt, "Ma shlomech, Rea." 

"Etzli b'seder gamur, Ziva, Mah ha'inyanim?" Emily answered with false warmth. 

Several minutes of excruciatingly polite conversation passed back and forth before Emily was able to convince the Israeli agent to meet with her that afternoon but, at least, she managed it without incurring another marker. 

~~~

J.J sighed as she was forced to slow down again for Sacks. It wasn't just unnecessary that the other the temporarily desk-ridden agent follow her back to the BAU's offices to make certain 'the information got there', it was insulting. She was the press liaison, for heaven's sake, and dealt equally sensitive information on a daily basis. Sack's egotistical and misogynistic assumption that J.J. being a press liaison equated to her having a poor understanding rules regarding the chain of evidence and reporting procedures - was getting on her nerves especially as his condescending almost nonstop explanation of said rules was frequently punctuated with whines and complaints every time his cast touched the floor. 

Hardly anyone considered Spencer particularly 'manly' but even Spencer (after being shot!) hadn't made the type of scene that Sacks was making.

If Sacks was in that much pain, he shouldn't have come to work at all. J.J. was almost certain that his team wouldn't have missed his presence. 

"Well, what do we have here," Sacks grunted as they passed the observation window to the interview room. "Cain's little pillow-biter."

"Seeing that he saved your partner's life, at risk of his own, I would have thought you would show Mr. DiNozzo a bit more professionalism, if not courtesy."

"One good deed... wait, what? DiNozzo? You've ID'd him?" 

"SSA Rossi stopped by the lab on the way in this morning, and pushed through the test. As it turned out, it didn't take as long as even we'd expected." 

"So, he's what, a nephew of the old conman that Cain killed? A cousin?"

"No, his kidnapped son, Anthony DiNozzo. Jr." 

"Man, that's just sick. Does he know?"

"We don't know, yet. As you must have seen yourself, he doesn't really speak." J.J. bit out, astonished at Sack's lack of care for their witness's circumstances and likely history. 

"Then, that's just the thing to get him talking. Don't you think?" Sacks suddenly spun back to the door and swung it open, hurrying in, for once without complaint about the impact his cast was taking as he barged into the observation room. 

"Wait, Don't! What do you think you're doing?" 

"Don't worry about it, Jorow, I just have a few questions to ask him?" 

"Not, without approval you don't!" 

"This is my case, little girl, not your's, so go back to writing those pretty little news blurbs and puff pieces to make us look good, while I get some work done."

"I hope you're prepared for the consequences of the mistakes you're making," J.J. warned angrily when it was clear she wasn't going to be able to make the other agent leave the observation room without drastic measure. 

Sack's just sneered at her and slammed his crutches across the table, ordering DiNozzo, with coarse language, to get off the ground.


	14. A Confirmation of Sorts

"Agent Fornell, Agent Gibbs," The agent Tobias had described on the way over, an SSA Hotchner, called for Tobias and himself, the moment Gibbs stepped out of the elevator and scanned the room. 

A quick once-over told Gibbs that the SSA was a man he could probably work with: straight to the point, no nonsense, former military, not marines, but... seal or special forces, who'd worked his way up through the ranks instead of coming in as a bureaucratic appointee. It was a quick appraisal, but one that rang true to his gut so Gibbs stowed his customary attitude towards the FBI and followed the agent's gesture into the conference room. 

"Before we go too far into the discussion about Cain, Agent Gibbs, please accept my sympathies on the loss of your team member. I hope you are able to bring the killer to justice."

Gibbs nodded his acceptance of the condolences, reading the other agent's sincerity, but wanting to get on with it, until the way Agent Hotchner had phrased the condolences stood out to him. 

"I take it you don't think Cain's her killer. Care to say why?"

"No, you're right, we don't," he agreed before turning to a younger agent sitting to his right. "Morgan..."

The younger man stood up as he explained, "Cain's a psycopath and a sadist that's for certain, but his ego wouldn't let him work with a team, not even to lead one, and your agent was ambushed as part of cell's attack on a pier." 

"He could have been a lone gunman not working with the team, but privy to their intel." Gibbs rebutted, playing the devil's advocate, but willing to listen. 

Cain hadn't even been on his radar until Tobias had mentioned him the previous week, and Kate's death felt personal. Even though Gibbs didn't have proof positive, Ari was still his primary subject - despite the coincidental arrival of a 'player' with a possible connection to a twelve year old black op. Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences, but sometimes bad timing was just that.

"If he were younger and new to the scene, possibly," Agent Morgan conceded, before turning to argue against it "but not now. He'd see himself past the point of taking advantage of easy set ups, and he wouldn't leave his brass behind." 

His assertion was followed almost immediately by Tobias, "That matches with what my team's investigation has turned up on him, which is almost nothing. Even twenty-five years ago, Jethro, it was a point of pride for him not to leave any trace evidence behind. The only piece of real evidence that we have on him came from DiNozzo being too sloshed to turn off his answering machine when he answered the phone." 

"DiNozzo Senior," Tobias's friend, David Rossi, interrupted with a signficant tone. "The kid that kept you from becoming a pin cushion, Tobias, is Anthony DiNozzo, Junior."

"Hotch had said." Tobias agreed, but Gibbs stopped listening for a minute as an old memory came to mind. "Oahu. Twenty... twenty-five years ago, an unsolved kidnapping, the child and au pair both believed to have drowned." Gibbs summarized quickly. 

"Good memory," Rossi complimented, "Looks like it's been solved."

"No, the timing doesn't make sense." A younger agent, who'd yet to be introduced, disagreed.

"Reid?" Agent Hotchner prompted. 

"Pu -- DiNozzo jr. and Gabrielle Montegna disappeared on March 15th, and you have a tape recording of Cain tying him to DiNozzo Senior's execution three months later, but nothing in between? That doesn't fit with his profile. Cain wouldn't wait three months: he clearly came into possession of DiNozzo Junior, at some point, but..."

"Cain's a professional," Gibbs finished for him, filling in his thoughts as he went with "he would either go for the quick kill, or the long revenge, training and sending Junior back to finish the job."

"Exactly." The agent agreed, looking relieved.

"How he got into Cain's custody isn't the issue right, now," Hotchner interrupted taking control of the meeting again. "Agent Gibbs, we have reason to believe that you're in the cross fire of two warring factions of a ... a shadow organization would be the best way to put it. Prentiss."

A dark haired young woman, with an air and attitude he recognized of having been 'in the field' so to speak, came to the front of the room and took up the remote control as she began...

"The league of shadows, the assassin's guild, the black hand, the marked, the ghost league, the hashshāshīn, the nizari ismalis, the fidai, the flame ... the kidon, there are as many names as there are legends of an ancient organization working behind the scenes to systematically keep the world in a balance, of sorts, by ensuring that no country or union of countries have the stability or power to assert long term tyrannical control over any other portion of the world. Needless to say, while there has never been any firm evidence linking any particular assassination to the league, most intelligence agencies tacitly agree that there are strong indicators to its existence and track the rumors surrounding any activities red flagged as having connection to the league." 

Behind her, on the display screen, a scroll of images from bombings, assassinations, and attacks spanning from the early 1900s to the present. 

"The organization is lead by individuals who take on the ceremonial title of 'Old Man of the Mountain,' or Rhas Al Ghul, a title earned by executing their predecessor to the role. About thirty years ago, just before Cain show up on international radars, there was rumored to be a rift between the Rhas Al Ghul of the time and his two sons, who were reportedly in line for the title. The elder son was his favored at the time, but his younger son was believed to hold popular favor. To prevent an internal war, the contemporary Rhas Al Ghul banished his younger son and his family and planned to execute them after they refused to turn over their youngest daughter to be trained as the elder's 'ubu', a bodyguard and personal slave, as a demonstration of allegience to the elder. According to what little information there was available, the elder brother did something unprecedented: he executed his father, took the mantle long enough to order his brother's recall, and walked away after appointing his brother to the role. After walking the gauntlet, and surviving, the elder was expected to turn over his own daughter, or otherwise train an ubu in her place. The current rumor is that the elder brother never turned over his daughter and has elected to keep the ubu he had trained as her replacement."

"As interesting as this is, how exactly does it relate to me?" Gibbs interrupted brusquely. While he might enjoy military and world history, it felt -to an extent- like they were telling ghost stories over Cait's grave. 

"I am actually getting to that Agent Gibbs. My contacts suggest that this has resulted in a rift between a traditionalist rafiq faction who view Cain as their rightful leader and the lasiqs and fidayin, who are youngest and lowest ranks of the organization culled from street children, raised under the current Rhas Al Ghul's authority, and trained to be expendable pawns. It's believed that to end the rift, the current Rhas Al Ghul has sent one of his own children to force his brother back into the fold by separating him from his ubu and framing him for a crime that will force him to return to his homeland, or alternately kill him if he refuses to return." 

"And killing a federal officer would do that quite nicely." Gibbs suggested tying the pieces of the two active investigations - that he knew of - together as he continued, "so Ari?"

"Yes, we believe so, and have independent confirmation from the man we believe to be Cain." Hotchner agreed, "Pendegrast." 

"Yes, Sir?" An agent, who'd been sitting in the background, suddenly jumped to his feet, clearly having been caught by surprise. 

"Please tell Agent Fornell and Agent Gibbs what you observed when Mr. David spoke with our witness."

"Okay. Mr. David came into the room with..."

"Stop." Gibbs ordered, holding his hand out to forestall the report as turned to Tobias to confirm something, "David... as in Mossad Officer Ziva David?"

Before Tobias could answer, Hotchner confirmed, "Yes, Itai Ben David is Ziva David's uncle, and Mossad Director Eli David's brother." 

"So if he's sent his own child, it's Ziva David I need to watch out for?" Gibbs surmised. It would explain why the explosives were untraceable but not from the cell that Ari was infiltrating. 

"Actually, it could be either. Ziva David is former kidon, and Ari Haswari is Officer David's half brother." Aaron interrupted, "However, if you would give Agent Pendegrast a moment to finish his report, you'll see why we think that Ari is the more likely choice."

"Get it out then," Gibbs ordered trying to keep his temper in check. 

"Okay, well, Mr. David was speaking really quietly, and I'm sure he didn't know I could read his lips when he told DiNozzo that he knew DiNozzo was to 'be delivered' to a Leroy Gibbs, and wanted DiNozzo to cooperate with and watch over the man. He specifically said that his nephew Ari has been tasked to kill Mr. Gibbs, and that he wished to see Ari fail at his task - so DiNozzo was to stay with Agent Gibbs, guard and serve him as he has Mr. David, and watch over his people until Mr. David returns. After he said that, Mr. David told DiNozzo that his brother said there were matters that Mr. David had to deal with before they could get back to their normal routine."

"And there was no way for him to know about your intelligence gathering?" Gibbs asked the brunette. 

"No, it didn't occur until after he left, and before you ask, even if he knew that I've been an operative, there wouldn't have been any way for him to anticipate the contacts I would have called for information."

"Okay, so that leaves me right where I already was, going after Ari." Gibbs grumbled. 

"Actually, Agent Gibbs, I would like to offer our services. I have spoken with Director Strauss, and she has agreed that getting information on this organization and the techniques used by the man responsible for recruiting and training a majority of their most recent operatives is top priority."

Gibb's first instinct was to refuse. He wanted to protect his team, by keeping his distance, but with three potential targets, all trained operatives, at least one of which was after his team, Gibbs was not above accepting assistance when it was offered. 

"Works for me." He finally answered, suppressing a smirk as he heard Tobias choking on his coffee beside him. 

"Sirs," Pendegrast interrupted, "Is there any way we can get the collar and cuffs off of DiNozzo?"

"The bomb squad's trying to figure out how to scan it safely." Tobias answered into the silence of the room.

Pendegrast shifted awkwardly as their attention turned back to him and shrugged, "It's just that, Mr. David threatened to punish him for his mistakes, and it was the only time I heard him make any sort of sound. It was sort of a whimper, and he started to grab his collar, but stopped when Mr. David made some sort of gesture. The thought of having something like that around your neck, a threat always hanging over you. It's kind of ghastly." 

"What about DiNozzo? What kind of risk does he pose for my team?" Gibbs questioned as he debated whether he wanted to expose them to any additional risk that might come with DiNozzo's presence. DiNozzo had been dealt a rough and might have saved Tobias's life, but that didn't mean he had a free pass with Gibbs's team. 

Hotchner shook his head and was clearly about to answer, when a blonde woman slammed into the room, demanding, "Hotch you need to get down to the interview room, now!"


	15. Intermission

No amount of warning could have prepared Aaron for the scene that met him outside of the interview room, when the he, Fornell, Prentiss, Reid, Morgan, and Gibbs rushed out of the conference room at J.J.'s demand. 

Knowing that they had very little information on DiNozzo's training, he had anticipated any number of triggers that might set off a potentially lethal response for the man, so had posted a guard inside the room, and another outside the room as a precaution. Additionally, the observation room was central to the 'bull pens' for a number of the BAU team, so he was not surprised at all to see a cluster of people circled around observation window, he'd banked on the possibility of there being nearby back up for the guards, if something went wrong. 

What he hadn't anticipated was that they would be standing around the window, doing nothing. Or worse, that they'd be pointing and snickering. 

Pushing their way through the crowd was suddenly made simpler by a pointed reminder, "Don't tell me you actually pay your people to stand around with their mouths hanging open, Tobias." from Gibbs, and a terse "Not for long" from Fornell that quickly cleared the gawkers and left Aaron at the interview room's entrance staring at the last scene he'd expected to see: DiNozzo with a grip on each of Penelope Garcia's arms, holding her back as she whipped at Ron Sacks with a sparkling troll and pink puffball-topped pencil as she chastised him, speaking so fast that Aaron was having a hard time making out the words. For his part, Sacks was floundering on the floor where he'd apparently fallen out of the chair, and was having a hard time of it without the help of the crutches, the guards who were standing by impassively, or Dave Rossi who was standing by staring at Garcia with a fond grin. 

Despite himself, Aaron was hard pressed not to find Sacks' turtle-like fumbling marginally satisfying, especially given past run ins with the man, who hadn't been able to accept that Aaron had selected Reid for the team after turning Sacks down. Aside from that, though, his normally compassionate team's seeming willingness to let the man roll and reel on the floor spoke volumes to him regarding who was the instigator of the scene. Unfortunately, it fell to him to remind them that they were expected to be professionals.

"Garcia!" he barked sharply, breaking the technical analyst's attention, momentarily, as he demanded, "What do you think you're doing?" 

Although his demand had stopped her attempts to swing the pencil, Penelope still glared fiercely at the floundering agent and relied on the hold DiNozzo had on her arms to keep balance while she tried to lean over Sacks menacingly, as she half-growled, "My sworn duty to the BAU, FBI, and the human race." 

"A little more elaboration please," Aaron prompted with irritation.

"Delivering a much needed attitude adjustment to a..." 

"Baby Girl-l-l," Derek interrupted, his tone a warning despite the amused edge. 

"A ... nasty bully posing as an FBI agent." She finally bit out, after having taking a couple seconds to seemingly tone down her language, probably significantly. 

"Dave?" Aaron asked, hoping his long term friend and mentor would be a little more helpful. 

"Garcia and I were coming up for the meeting, when we passed wonder-boy over there interrogating DiNozzo with questions that a three-year old would know were out of line and completely ignoring J.J., who was attempting to rein him in. I was going to pull him out and give a quick lesson on acceptable interrogation techniques when Penelope heard some of the questions he was asking and decided to bring the lesson down to a level he could understand. She didn't get a chance to make contact, thanks to DiNozzo, but wonder-boy got spooked and fell out of his chair... and there we are."

"Oh really? What did he ask?" Aaron questioned, glaring at Sacks, who was now staring at Dave with a confused grimace. 

"I'd rather not say, in present company, but if I were the director, it would have been enough to give him the boot." 

"What, you're crazy, I was just asking if..." Sacks protested, but was immediately cut off by Fornell who ordered, "Ron keep your mouth shut and get up."

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Sacks growled. 

Any other comments were quashed by DiNozzo carefully steadying Garcia before letting go of her arms to slip by her and crouch behind Sacks, catch his arms, and lift him to his feet in a single smooth rise. Before he let go of the agent, completely, DiNozzo wrapped his arm around Sacks to hold him up, seeming to use excessive care toward the Agent, as he reached around, grabbed one of the crutches, and held it out to Sacks, who grabbed it away with an embarrassed grumbled. Once Sacks was standing on his own, DiNozzo stepped back pausing a moment to make certain with a glance that Sacks was steady before returning to where Aaron left him before the meeting and dropping to his knees. 

"Think that answers my question," Gibbs muttered as an aside that Aaron agreed to with a quick nod. 

It would be hard to imagine that DiNozzo might pose a threat to Gibbs team when Cain had ordered DiNozzo to protect them and the few actions DiNozzo taken on his own desire or conscience had been for the purpose of protect and assisting another. 

"Agent Fornell, Agent Sacks, we'll discuss this later. In the meantime, Agent Gibbs, are you ready to take custody of ... our witness?"

After several seconds of silence, he turned to Gibbs to find the man staring at DiNozzo, his expression a mix of consternation and grim concern. 

"Agent Gibbs?" Aaron repeated.

"Yeah, I am." Gibbs finally answered. 

"Okay, Morgan, please bring Agent Gibbs up to speed regarding what we've learned about our guest, then return with him to discuss the new case he has brought to our attention. Agent Fornell could you take Agent Sacks and get his report of what just occurred while I speak with Agents Rossi, Garcia, and Jareau? I'd like to close this matter as quickly as possible. Reid, could I ask you to stay with our witness and ascertain the impact if any that Agent Sack's interrogation may have had?"

After a round of quick agreements, the group broke up - going in separate directions (after Rossi steered the still angry technical analyst past Sacks and out the doors). Despite his intention to put the matter to rest, Aaron suspected that Agent Sacks would be experiencing extensive difficulty with the agency's computer systems until she calmed down or another event distracted her.


	16. In Transition

Gibbs closed the door behind DiNozzo and turned to face Tobias who stayed behind after the other FBI agents dispersed. 

"I'm not changing my mind," he insisted, reading Tobias' desire to talk him out of his earlier decision. 

"I'm not, either." his now-former lover argued, obstinately. "Our rules still apply Jethro, don't shut me out or try to push me out of the loop. Making a decision - so soon after- is a rookie move, Jethro, and you're too smart for that."

"Turns out, I'm not..." Gibbs shrugged before moving in close enough to catch Fornell's right hand in his. 

He wanted to part with a kiss, but quickly quashed that thought thinking that despite the illusion of privacy in the empty garage, the Hoover building's parking garage - like the Naval Yard's- probably had cameras catching them from almost every angle. It would be a lousy time and reason to wreck their careers over, so he left it at a handshake held just a few moments longer than normal, and a softly voiced, "Goodbye, Tobias."

"Damn it, Jethro. You're letting the bastard win; don't give him this."

"No matter how it turns out, no one's going to walk away a winner." Gibbs answered - stating the same simple blunt truth he had been focusing on since he turned in his report to Morrow: If they'd had even a half hour more, his team could have gotten to the cell before they'd had the chance to threaten the incoming fleet, and Kate would never have been up on the roof. What the could have done with a week more? ... A week's notice that Tobias had, but kept from him. 

Gibbs didn't blame Tobias for Kate's death, but he couldn't excuse him from keeping the information to himself when he had to know how easily the MRCT team could get caught in the crossfire, given that Ari had -twice before- used a team members welfare to blackmail another member into complying. Kate had been his responsibility to look out for and protect that wasn't something that he could forgive himself for, either. 

To Gibbs, it was better parting now than letting those feelings fester into the kind of resentment he'd felt from Diane before they finally split. 

He squeezed Tobias' hand again and let go to walk around the charger's boot and get in on the driver's side. 

Never one to look back, Gibbs still noticed when he glanced quickly past the rear view mirror before pulling out into traffic that Tobias hadn't moved and was still staring after him as he pressed his foot to the gas pedal.

ブレンキン

"I'm sorry, Tobias." David's voice startled Tobias as the door to the garage door closed behind him.

"You know you were never going to talk him out of it, don't you?" David continued. 

"And you know that someday that 'talent' of yours is going to earn you a punch in the mouth." Tobias retorted knowing that -when his friend had been a skilled enough profiler to read that he and Gibbs were... had been together when no one else had- there really had been no hope of keeping Rossi from picking up on Jethro's decision break up.

"Why not hold off on that punch until after I've paid for a couple rounds... make it less painful for both of us?" 

"I'm not off this case, yet." Tobias answered, the thought 'No matter what Jethro might think' followed on the tail of his comment, but he managed not to grumble it. 

"No, but you're not alone either, and Hotch is taking first shift with Prentiss. Reid and Morgan are next. Should leave enough time for you to sober up if you can't hold your liquor."

The offer was tempting, and truth be told, Tobias could feel that the previous week of staying on high alert and watching Jethro's six every way he could was wearing on him and whatever 'edge' he had left at his age was definitely grinding down. 

"Fine, but no where that plays classical or country." He really didn't need any additional reminder of his ex's at the moment. 

"Easily managed; there's this little cigar club in the basement of an old papermill..." 

"On M st. near twenty-third?" Tobias questioned, cheering up at the prospect; he had wanted to check it out since the club first opened, but never went as neither Diane nor Jethro smoked or had the patience to enjoy jazz.

"Thats the one." David agreed, amused and relieved at the spark of interest he'd woken.

ブレンキン

"We're going to the Naval Yard, and we'll be staying there until we can figure out how to get those things off of you." Gibbs explained as they pulled into the evidence garage, where they stood the best chance of containing any chance of explosion while Abby studied DiNozzo's collar and cuffs. 

The whole building should have suppression for remote detonation devices, but no system was secure, and he wasn't willing to risk another of his team on the chance that a signal could get through. 

DiNozzo didn't respond, but Gibbs hadn't expected him to respond by this point. Agent Morgan and Agent Reid's speculations about DiNozzo's training seemed to be right on the mark, as far as he could see; DiNozzo flawlessly obeyed the Israeli military dog-handler hand signals which Agent Reid had researched on the event that their speculation had been correct and a David Cain and Itai Bin David were the same man. 

Despite the man's silence and unquestioning obedience, Gibbs was certain the BAU's estimation of DiNozzo's intelligence was correct as well. DiNozzo's eyes had been too active and curious on the drive from the Hoover building to underestimate his potential. Several times throughout the ride, Gibbs had noticed DiNozzo's gaze sweeping from tactical point to tactical point as they passed - as if searching for snipers or other forms of ambush despite the fact that DiNozzo been seeming to keep his eyes down. 

Abby was waiting for them in the evidence garage and quickly took charge once Gibbs had calmed her and convinced her that DiNozzo hadn't been a party to Kate's death. Convincing DiNozzo to stay behind, when he felt the last bit of energy from his earlier coffee fade away and decided to take a coffee run, was somewhat more difficult until he remembered a comment from the security guard, who'd been stationed in the room with DiNozzo.

"DiNozzo, were you or were you not ordered to watch over my people when I'm not present to do so?" 

The younger man responded with a sharp nod, before shooting a quick glance to Abby in a way that somehow carried a question, even though Gibbs couldn't have pinned down what helped him recognize it as such. 

"Exactly, Abby Scuito, this is Anthony DiNozzo. DiNozzo, this is Abby Scuito, my team's forensics expert and technical analyst. Stay with her and watch over her until I return." 

DiNozzo's posture shifted to an 'on alert' stance, and Gibbs despite the lack of a nod from the man took the gesture as agreement, said "good enougn", and left them to it. Once he was certain he was out of earshot, Gibbs pulled out the card that he'd been given by Agent Morgan and dialed the number. Morgan answered almost immediately and was surprisingly quick to share what his team had when Gibbs asked just how much they knew about DiNozzo.

ブレンキン

"I don't know how much of this you may already know," Derek began, "but I can fill that in a bit, before getting into what to expect from him. Some of the info comes from Fornell's investigation and some of it Garcia was able to uncover particularly about Pup's life before he was kidnapped. From what she found, it's pretty clear that even before the kidnapping, DiNozzo didn't seem to have the picturesque family life."

"His grandparents on both sides were second generation Italian Americans with loose ties to the mafia. Ercole DiNozzo, DiNozzo's grandfather on his father's side, broke from the family mold and became a tailor, living a lifestyle that was apparently too humble for his son, DiNozzo's father. Anthony DiNozzo Sr. - almost as soon as he was out of high school - became a low level hustler who worked his way up to white collar stock flipping and embezzlement. Given time and the connections he was trying to build with Celso DiGabretsi by marrying his daughter Juliana DiGabretsi, DiNozzo's grandfather on his mother's side, he might have worked his way into the focus of a RICO investigation or two, but he made a serious mistake, underestimating the DiGabretsi's intelligence and commitment to family." 

"Celso DeGabretsi, by contrast, embraced the family business and rose to be a significant capo in the Porfirio syndicate just before Enzo Porfirio was taken down on a series of RICO charges. The FBI and other agencies expecting Porfirio and his inner circle to run the syndicate from his cell, when Porfirio was executed in the exercise yard and DiGabretsi stepped in to the vacuum. His son Vincinzo stepped up to take his place roughly fifteen years later."

"By that time, DiNozzo Sr. and Vincenso's sister, Juliana, had been married five years, and things weren't going well. DiNozzo had an eye for the ladies, and Juliana a serious drinking problem, and none of the children that her inheritance depended on. Celso wanted to establish the DiGabretsi family in the US, expected each of his five children to have several children of their own, and wrote it into his will that his children would only receive their shares in accordance of the number of grandchildren they produced. Gianna DiGabretsi had already given Vincenzo four children, and looked to be in-line to get her sister's share as well, despite indicators that DiNozzo was forcing her to see a fertility specialist." 

"The fertility treatments continued for another two years before Anthony DiNozzo was born. By the time he'd been born, though, it's pretty clear that their marriage had disintegrated enough that his birth was not the joyous event it should have been. DiNozzo Jr. experienced a mild reaction to one of the testing agents used by the hospital on newborns and was held an extra two days by the hospital to ensure that he was suffering no other symptoms. Mrs. DiNozzo on the other hand, left as soon as she could and sent an au pair to retrieve DiNozzo Jr. but only after the hospital contacted her when she didn't pick him the day she had been scheduled to pick him up. From there on, it appears that the DiNozzo's left their son in the care of a long string of revolving au pairs while Mrs. DiNozzo racked up hefty bar receipts at local golf clubs and restaurants as well as sizeable charges at every range of retailer from designers to interior designers. Mr. DiNozzo spent a great deal of time out of town racking his own expenses up at mens' clubs, florists, and jewelry stores. His infrequent visits home were frequently followed by Ms. DiNozzo firing current au pair and hiring more mature au pairs with less attractive profiles, who would be replaced on DiNozzo's next return."

"Mrs. DiNozzo's drinking habits eventually landed her in the hospital with sclerosis of the liver and alcohol poisoning. Eighteen months after she was first admitted, Mrs. DiNozzo suffered an accidental overdose caused by a malfunction of the automated drip which pumped her pain medication directly instead of diluting it into her saline drip. The hospital, insurance company, and police investigated but found no signs of foul play and paid DiNozzo off. Roughly a year later, DiNozzo took his son to Oahu. When DiNozzo Jr. disappeared, DiNozzo was investigated again, but aside from the fact that he'd never taken his son on trips before, nothing was found -at that time - to confirm his involvement."

"Let me guess, Agent Garcia had better luck?" Gibbs questioned with noticeable tinge of amusement in his tone that subtly reminded Derek of the fact that the NCIS officer had been there to hear him call Penelope "Baby Girl."

"On both counts," Derek answered not even try play his smugness off. "Six months after receiving the insurance payout on his wife, DiNozzo transferred five thousand into the bank account of one of his wife's nurses. Several months before his son was kidnapped, DiNozzo transferred five thousand into the account of a charter captain in Oahu, who was later shot dead, beside his lover, the son of the owner of the bungalow they were found in, dead in his lap... three days after DiNozzo was shot."

"Cain." 

It wasn't a question.

"I think so," Derek agreed. "So does Reid." 

"The genius probie?"

"That'd be him; believe it or not, though, he's not a probie, but a certifiable genius with six years in the field. Hotch calls him our expert on everything, and it's true for the most part, so just try to bear with him if he rambles, he usually has a point worth hearing and more often than not it's key to solving the case."

"I'll keep it in mind; his point, earlier, seemed on the mark. I can't see that Cain would pick DiNozzo up until after his father was killed. Professionals don't tote kids ..." 

Gibbs' comment died midstream - cut short by the familiar flat whistle of a rifle shot.


	17. Deja Vu

"Let me through," Gibbs demanded, barely suppressing the urge to push a security guard out of the way as he flashed his credentials. 

"Sir, we're asking that everybody goes through a security check..." the guard protested, moving more firmly into his path... only to be pushed aside by Abby as she threw herself at Gibbs, crying his name repeatedly, and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. 

After calming Abby enough to unhook her arms and check her over for any sign of injury, Gibbs finally had the chance - and breath - to ask, "What happened?"

"DiNozzo, don't call him Tony (he really doesn't like it), but he totally saved me. I had just hit the lever to close the evidence garage doors when I heard a whistle and the glass crashing; and then, I felt this really gigantic pull on my arms; and before I knew it, I was on the ground; and he was on top of me; and he grabbed the top of my head and pushed it to the other side of his and put his arm around it; and when he did, I could see that he was bleeding; and I just knew what he did because that's not the kind of thing you can ignore you know? He totally, totally took a bullet for me, and he wouldn't let me move out from under him until the guards pulled him off me." Abby reported in a breathless run-on sentence.

"He did?" Gibbs asked, shocked even though he had essentially ordered the man to watch out for Abby. While he certainly wouldn't want Abby hurt, there had been no reason to expect a direct threat to anyone in the NCIS headquarters. Moreover, he was certain to the core that DiNozzo was a witness and a victim - not Cain's confidant or partner- and should not have been put in that position regardless of the circumstance. "Where is he?"

"That was what I was coming out to say, you need to get in there. Tim's being stupid, and the guards are listening to him. They're letting Ducky patch him up, but they've put him in handcuffs, and Tim won't stop aiming his gun at him."

"Damn it." Gibbs growled, sweeping across the scene - a force of nature that turned swarming security, MP's, and LEOs out of his path. As much as he doubted that Ari would hang around now that the naval yard was with, he wasn't willing to leave Abby out in the open without a guard so pulled her back into the building with him. Given his ever-present memory of Shannon and Kelly's loss and the grief that nearly destroyed him, Gibbs had no doubt that Tim was only too ready to wreck vengeance on anyone even loosely connected with Kate's death - regardless of his normally compassionate manner.

ブレンキン

Judging by his utter stillness and passive posture - though complete focus on McGee as Gibbs approached - DiNozzo seemed to recognize this fact as well, or at least the thin, fraying line between Tim's pulling and not pulling the trigger.

Tim, by contrast, though equally still, radiated aggression and menace, which in an of itself, appeared to be stirring up the guards who had never seen the potential in Tim to be anything other than the mild-mannered cyber guy who somehow made it onto Gibbs team and probably only managed to stay on due to Gibbs' well known dislike for technology. Thankfully, though, between DiNozzo's passivity and Ducky's insistence on stepping between the two men while constantly grousing on the absurdity of handcuffing the obvious victim of the attack, Tim hadn't been given enough to trigger or justify the revenge he so clearly craved. 

Stepping up behind Tim, Gibbs put his hand over the gun, slipping his finger behind the trigger so that Tim couldn't 'accidentally' shoot DiNozzo as he was disarmed.

"Stand Down, Tim!" He ordered, his voice firm though soft.

"He attacked Abby!" The furious younger man protested, refusing to loosen his grip on the weapon until Gibbs twisted it from his grip.

"No, he didn't." Abby shouted stamping her foot. "He pushed me down so I wouldn't be shot. I told you that. But you wouldn't listen. Didn't you even notice he was bleeding? "

"Of course, he was bleeding," the younger man argued back, "He knocked an evidence tray over on the two of you. Don't mistake an escape attempt as an altruistic act. He was probably only trying to get away before the door closed and pushed you so you couldn't hit the lever. He had to have known about the shooter beforehand; the shooter's probably Caine or another accomplice,"

"No," Gibbs broke in, cutting Tim off. "It was Ari or Officer David, Tim. DiNozzo's not a part of this, and we have confirmation from the FBI, and other outside sources that one of the two whose trying to kill me and frame Caine, but even if it had been Caine, DiNozzo had nothing to do with it."

"You can't be sure of that!" Tim challenged, still glaring at DiNozzo, "what if he's one of the cell? Caine is supposed to be some sort of recruiter isn't he."

"Yeah, I can, Tim. He was in the hospital when Kate ..." Gibbs sighed, not really wanting to continue the argument with security gawking, when Ducky interrupted.

"Gentlemen, if you will," Ducky cut in sharply, "I believe I have evidence that may sway your argument. This..." he drew their attention to the bloodied forceps he had been using to work on DiNozzo's injury. 

Pinched between the tips, sat a blood stained lump of metal that they all recognized as the remains of a .308 Lapua round, as Ducky continued, "... bullet's trajectory through our 'guest's' shoulder strongly suggests that he, not Abby, was the target of your would-be assassin. Considering that I have not been permitted to move the young man to the more sterile and convenient - in terms of medical treatment - location of my morgue due to the remote detonation device secured around his throat by Mr. Caine, I would have to agree with Jethro that Mr. Caine would not need to resort to his marksmanship skills to eliminate the young man."

It was lost on no one that the round had been of the same make as that bullet responsible for Kate's death.

Tim finally released the gun, and appeared as if he was about to say something to DiNozzo, perhaps even apologize, before he shook himself and turned stalking silently away.

Understanding all too well, Gibbs decided to give the younger agent his space, and caught Abby's elbow as she started to follow him - ordering the security team with a glare as he did, "Get the cuffs off him, " before trying to pull Abby's focus back to the man who may or may not have been shot trying to protect her: "How is he, Duck?"


	18. A Nice, Quiet Pup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair Warning: the flashback in this chapter borders on graphic, but considering it deals with the trauma that resulted in a nine-year-old child, who would have otherwise grown up into the outgoing garrulous Tony we know and love, not speaking for twenty-five years - a hint of graphic and dark seemed warranted. (Still this really wasn't where I thought it was going when I sat down to start this chap.)

Pup watched Agent Scuito moving around the work area with bemusement. Despite having met so few of his master's acquaintances, or anyone outside of his master's acquaintances for that matter, he was quite certain that the dark-haired woman was quite unusual. 

It wasn't simply from the differences between her attire and the attire of those around her. Other agents around her behaved noticeably different to her presence than they did in the presence of any of the other agents with the exception of Agent Gibbs, who was almost universally treated warily by others who were careful not to encroach on his path, and the doctor who had treated his shoulder, who was given the same wide berth but without the accompanying impression of wariness. 

Pup had seen this before in his master's dealings, when a senior consigliere was well liked by both upper and lower levels of an organization and/or was one who had personally seen to the welfare of the men below and above inevitably made the consigliere the kind of man whom his master would only threaten when he intended to leave no one living. The death of such men often inspire more enmity and thirst for reprisal than even a leader's death would. 

The reaction that Agent Scuito, while similar in the sense of an over-protectiveness evident in the posture and bearing of every guard they had passed, was still inherently very different, reminding Pup of the way the child of a leader might be treated: general acknowledgment laced with tolerance, amusement, and a very light sense that she was being pandered to - which did not make as much sense to Pup as the doctor's treatment had. His master's idle comments had implied that, at least in America, the hierarchical structure of its agencies generally prohibited the inheritance of a position into the same ranks and location as a parent worked.

"Abby, stop!"

Pup jerked his head up at Agent Gibbs sharp bark and quickly scanned the room, jumping to his feet and putting himself between her and the window as he did.

Given Agent Gibbs position, the space between the window and the younger agent was the only position that Agent Gibbs would not be able to cover fully from where he was standing. Despite offering some light during the daytime hours, the window gave poor visibility to street-level threats, and Pup was certain that anyone with his master's training and equipment, some such as Ari, could target Agent Scuito, whether she could be directly seen or not.

"Stand down, DiNozzo." Agent Gibbs ordered with a bark and a sideways hand slash that reminded Pup to kneel.

"What's going on? Why did you yell at me?" Agent Scuito demanded in a tone that shocked Pup.

His master would have punished Pup - severely- for showing even a trace of the disrespect in his posture that her blatant outburst showed to someone whom his master had accorded a roughly equal status to his own. Given how she had seemed to look to him for approval in every other instance, her behavior was confusing and inexplicable to pup... though not to Agent Gibbs, it seemed as the agent gestured her over to his side with a wave.

"Dr. Reid can explain it to ya; he only said it was important that you didn't use that magnetic-reso-thing. I don't know, have him explain it then you can explain it to me." Agent Gibbs answered pushing his phone at her before he moved to crouch in front of Pup, who cast his eyes quickly downward.

"Hey there," Agent Gibbs greeted Pup before pausing as if he somehow expected an answer.

Not certain what response the Agent Gibbs was expecting, Pup dropped to his palms, pressing his shoulders low toward the floor. Before Pup could press his forehead down as well, Agent Gibbs tapped his shoulder and ordered, "hey, there, stay sitting up for me. I'd prefer seeing your expression to the back of your head; makes it easier to know if you're understanding what I said. Got it?" he asked, and pup quickly nodded his understanding. 

He would have to be more careful, Pup realized. Unlike his Master, who had defined exactly what response he wanted from Pup in almost every conceivable instance, Pup could not rely on Agent Gibbs quick grasp of giving commands that Pup would obey to imply that he would know what responses to expect from Pup. It would be even more critical for Pup to observe and anticipate the agent's wishes and act on them without expectation of a command as the agent may not recognize any response Pup might give. 

"Agents Reid and Morgan think they have a way to get you out of this..." Gibbs began, but cut off almost immediately as he read Pup's expression, "Easy, we're going to take every precaution to make sure that you aren't hurt. They have ..." The rest of the agent's sentence was lost to Pup as clutched at the collar his master had soldered the last time pup had seen him.

"Easy," Gibbs coaxed, unfolding his white-knuckled grip. "It'll be alright, between Abby and the genius, they'll figure out how to keep you safe. Then I'll take you home and see if I don't have something that might fit you better than scrubs."

That wasn't what Pup was worried about, but he couldn't think of a way to explain that he didn't want his new cuffs and collar removed - in any way that they would understand without breaking the first and longest-standing rule his master had given him.

> Trapped between the weight of the smaller man who was been hurting him and the bigger man who was hurting him from underneath, Tony could barely breath as their previous hard shoves and pushes, which felt like they were ripping him out from the inside out from his bottom all the way up to his throat from his screaming, suddenly turned into weak light jerks that still hurt but didn't feel like he was being cut open as much even though he could barely breathe under the smaller man's weight. 
> 
> When they stopped moving altogether, like they were sleeping, and the bigger man's hand let go of the chain that had been pulled so tight around his throat, Tony tried to crawl out from between him, but found himself still caught, pinned by their weight and their 'things' still in his... still hurting him. He couldn't get away even though he was pretty sure they wouldn't do anything else to stop him or try to hurt him more. He knew... even if he didn't want to think about it... that they weren't sleeping, that the blood running off the bigger man's face, down his shoulder, and onto the couch meant they were ... they probably were, but his mind wouldn't let him complete the thought, and he didn't want to - not until he could get out from between them and go somewhere ... somewhere else. 
> 
> No matter what he tried to do to get away from them, though, nothing worked, and Tony's breathing started going faster and faster until he felt like he wasn't even breathing at all because it was like he was breathing too fast to actually get air. His head felt like it was spinning, and the tears and snot that he couldn't stop sniffing back were only making things worse. The struggle to breathe and get free of them was so encompassing that Tony didn't notice the figure coming through the door and watching him struggle for several minutes before finally stepping forward. 
> 
> “How unexpected. I came here to put two rabid dogs down, and what do I find?" The figure asked as it crouched beside them and picked up the ring of the choke chain, giving it a tug. "A pup on a choke chain. You're such a small thing to be on a choke, I wonder why.” His tone implied a question as he tugged the chain again lightly, and Tony shrieked in terror, pulling back as far as he could from the man who didn't seem at all concerned with how Tony was caught between them, that the men had pulled their pants down to ('play' was what they had called it) with him, and he was naked except for snot, blood, and ... other stuff covering him.
> 
> "Oh, I see." The man commented, dropping the chain. "You're one of those little yappers, aren't you? What a shame, I was half thinking of taking you home."
> 
> Before Tony could realize what the man had meant, the man stood up and turned away, walking back to the door- leaving him where he was.
> 
> Terrified of being left there - like that- Tony cried out again, before catching himself, and trying to call "Please!" as softly as he could but loud enough that the man would hear him. "Please take me. Please I won't..." 
> 
> The man paused near the door, turning to look back at him, and cutting Tony's plea off with a stern look as he answered, "I don't know. I'd like a pet, but a yapper? As far as I'm concerned yappers are just as much of a nuisance as the rabid kind." His opinion of the 'rabid kind' was obvious in the man's expression as his eyes noticeably scanned the unmoving men above and below Tony. 
> 
> "Still..." he continued as walked back over to Tony, hooked his finger in the loop of the choke chain, gave it another light tug, then crouched until he was looking directly into Tony's eyes as he said, "I would like a pup - if it's a quiet one, an obedient one. That kind of pup... the kind who doesn't make any noise and does what he's told, that kind of pup... I could see taking home. You stay quiet and I'll take you out of here... maybe take you back home and buy a new collar for you, maybe some cuffs, something fitting for a nice, quiet pup that doesn't need to be choked to shut it up."
> 
> Afraid to do something that would make the man change his mind, Tony nodded two rapid, jerky nods, silently begging with his eyes, and held still as the man stood back up, pulled the smaller of the two unmoving men off of Tony's back- the fall of the man's body naturally taking care of pulling the rest of the man out of Tony before he wrapped an arm around Tony's waist and pulled him up and off the bigger man's ... lap. It hurt horribly - feeling like Tony's insides were being pulled out of him, but he bit his lip to keep himself from crying out, and didn't let himself even whimper when the man put him down on wobbly legs, grabbed a beach towel from over one of the chairs, wrapped it around Tony's waist - tucking it in. Without another word - although he did briefly put his fingertip to his lips as a reminder- the man hooked a finger in the loop of the choke collar, pulled it gently until the chain's other loop was at Tony's throat, and the remaining slack of the chain was hanging on the other side of the loop at his throat like a makeshift leash that the man used to lead him out of the cabana. Tony followed him silently all the way to the man's car, obediently climbed into his back seat, and laid down when the man flicked his fingers across the direction of the seat cushions in a silent command

After taking Pup back to the retreat he'd rented to 'work from', cleaning him up, and feeding him, his master had left him in the choke chain for close to a week while Pup had proven he could behave properly. When his master returned from one of his trips at the end of the week, he'd knelt beside the big throw pillow he'd put down for pup, stroked the side of Pup's cheek telling pup how good he'd been, then gifted him with a soft doeskin collar and set of cuffs that his master had only taken off when they'd worn out eight months after (and immediately replaced with a new set). In the twenty-five years since, Pup had only been out of the collar and cuffs the breathless handful of minutes it required to replace each consecutive set, and he didn't want to be out of the latest set that his master had welded on, tighter than usual, before this had all started - even though Agent Gibbs had suggested he was going to get him something that fit him better and his master had said that Pup was to obey Agent Gibbs even as Pup obeyed him.

But that wasn't something he could explain with gestures alone, and Pup hadn't spoken in the twenty-five years since he stepped out of the edge of the congealing puddle of blood on the cabana floor and followed his master out of hell.


	19. Long Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder there were warnings that this was an underage/non-con fic. This chapter is one of the reasons why. I tried to edit out the graphic moments while trying to keep most the details about the depths of how messed up Tony's life had been with Cain.

Taking the seat beside his brother, David paused to scan the runway as one of his brother's guards pulled the hatch shut and sealed the door, before turning to face his brother.

"Tell me, Ras, what are your plans now?"

His brother's expression was annoyingly amused, but David would not be baited into asking again. He more than anyone knew the tactics his father had attempted to teach both he and his brother, the constant minute-by-minute power plays, and the incessant need to always have the upper hand. That need, which David only barely acknowledged to himself, had been one of the prominent factor's in his decision to keep pup as his own, that and his certainty that his younger brother would not have the stomach to maintain the training he had given pup.

While he would not acknowledge it to his brother, and had never spoken it out loud, David was well aware that his brother's accusation that his pup was his 'Ubu' held more fact than fallacy... and privately, he had relished in the fact - despite having never desired to take the role of Ras Al Ghul that both his father and many of the League's elders had wanted. Unlike his brother, David had early on recognized that for all of the wealth, people, and resources controlled by Ras Al Ghul, the person who wore the title was as much a servant as a leader... and David had always wanted true autonomy and the ability to inflict his desires without consequence. By ceding control of the league to his brother, taking only the contracts he'd desired, and keeping the DiNozzo child for himself, had allowed David to not only regularly enjoy the ability to exercise his power over life and death, but also to take someone's life and future and mold it to his own whims - without resistance. 

As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Eli finally tired of waiting for his brother to ask again and sighed, "Itai, you are ever the obstinate one."

That was all that Eli said for several minutes, seeming willing to wait, but David took no further notice of the man, willing to let his brother 'stew' as it were. Eli had always been impatient, prone to rash decisions, and limited planning. As it was, David already suspected that he knew what his brother would be forced to ask for - an 'ubu' trained at David's hand but dedicated to Eli's service... to legitimize both Eli's role and David's seeming 'fealty' to him. Unfortunately, unless his brother had developed the fortitude to participate in the training, as Eli had refused to do years earlier with Cassandra, the request would be useless. There were certain aspects of an ubu's training that could not be forfeited, and the willingness to control, exploit, and deprive one's ubu of every conceivable pleasure and comfort - from any source but the master the ubu was being trained for - was the highest and most critical of these. 

It was a mistake they had both made with Cassandra, but one he had not repeated with pup, and the distinction was apparently obvious - even to distant observers. Despite his willingness to give his own daughter over for training as his brother's ubu, David had indulged Cassandra, permitting her to read and write, allowing her to have a friendship with Talia, and not exploiting her basic needs for comfort and contact, and the result was that while she had become the lethal guard she was being trained to be, she had developed a mind of her own and believed she could look elsewhere for contact, approval, and pleasure... and ultimately, believing so, she had refused his orders at a critical moment - before abandoning him.

Taking that lesson as learnt, he had subsequently avoided the same errors with pup. From the moment he had left pup laid out in the back seat of his vehicle while he returned to re-pose the second kidnapper's body in the lap of the larger of the two and remove any traces of the boy's presence, David had been methodically plotting how he would strip the boy's personality away, bit by bit.

> Using the kidnapper's violence as an unspoken foil, David had kept the child collared, cuffed, and naked, bedded him down on the floor like the dog he called him, and rewarded him with gentle touches only when he stayed quiet and still. The scant food that David gave him was bland but warm, filling, and quickly taken away if the child was slow to eat it or tried to use his hands to eat. The most effective tool, however, had been taking complete control the boy's body.
> 
> Slipping diuretics and laxatives into the child's food had made it the simplest of tasks to time taking the boy to the facilities and ordering him to go on command despite the boy's initial embarrassment to relieve himself in David's presence. Timing the length and complexity of the boy's exercise routine ensured that the child was sufficiently exhausted to sleep when he was ordered to and had the added benefit of inflicting cramps and aches in the child's growing but under-used muscles... cramps and aches that David was swift to relieve a firm massage - accustoming the child to his touch. Between times, when the child was not sleeping on David's command, eating or exercising under David's supervision, or being massaged - Pup spent bound on his thin pillow, the leather ties on his wrists secured to his ankles and either posed on his side or on his knees, forehead pressed against the cushion below him - with one exception.
> 
> When David initially examined and treated the injuries inflicted by his kidnappers, he had allowed pup to lay stretched flat on his bed... the only time he allowed pup on his bed. The injuries had taking several days to heal with David applying healing salves internally and externally to pup's abused hole while the child panted in barely disguised fear, but heal they did, and David slowly turned the clinical touches he had used to more stimulating, sensual touches that frequently had the child stiffening in surprise and shuddering. While the child's fear of his touch slowly lessened, David increased the frequency that he called pup to his bed to 'examine him', stimulating the child's prostate until the boy was writing and whimpering under him with need before he ordered the child back to the ground and re-tied him to spend a restless night despite his exhaustion. 
> 
> As he had constantly and slowly increased the pleasure that he was forcing on pup, David simultaneously removed every other source of entertainment that the child might have used to distract himself- discarding his own television and radio, banning the child from touching books, pencils, and anything he might have used to draw or play with, and installing a locking hook to clip pup's leash to when he was out... ensuring that the only pleasure his pup received was from David's attentions.
> 
> By the end of the first month, pup pressed tightly to his side whenever he was permitted to crawl, and scampered eagerly to David's bed when his master patted its top. As his eagerness grew, David increased the frequency but lessened the intensity, leaving the confused and needy pup wanting more each time. Finally, after David had called him up to the bed every ninety minutes to stimulate the boy from dawn until nine that night - pup finally fell into an unseen trap that David had been waiting and preparing for by giving in to the urge to touch himself and so was immediately caught by David, who had been watching for it. After chastising the child for being a 'naughty' and 'greedy' pup, David hooked him down on his side, removed the pillow, used a zip cord as a cruel, makeshift cock ring, and retrieved the smallest vibrating plug he had been able to purchase, which he inserted before leaving the child to suffer it through the night.
> 
> Despite the child's desperate state the next morning, after removing the plug and zip cord, David had left the child tied down and warned him that because he had been so rude and greedy, he would have to earn back every allowance that David had given him freely. And then the training had begun, in earnest.
> 
> A month passed before David permitted the boy to earn a thin mat to replace his lost pillow by mastering his aim with throwing stars. Another month before David allowed him to earn having his food warmed by enduring six miles on the treadmill - without faltering. He let two more months pass without reward despite the fact that the child was noticeably giving his best effort before David rewarded him by returning his mat to David's room from where he had moved it to the hall after the child successfully shot the targets David had set up for him at each of the distances. Another month passed before David rewarded him by not stepping away when pup moved closer to him. After six months, when David rewarded him by ordering him up on the bed, pup's expression so ecstatically happy that David nearly laughed. His lesson wasn't quite complete, however, as pup had learned once he reached the bed.
> 
> Once he had pup stretched out on his bed, David brought out the accouterments he had added while the boy had been moved out to the hall, and secured the boy's cuffs, then his ankles to each corner of the bedstead, and began fingering the boy again. Despite his excitement at having won back the concession from his master, pup was caught off guard by the new situation, especially when David did not stop as he had before, stimulating pup to his first orgasm, even though he was too young to be able to ejaculate... and didn't stop then, pushing him through painful over-sensitivity to a second before his master's fingers changed angles and directions, spreading his opening wider and wider with each slide in and out. David had gone slowly taking more than an hour with ample lube before he was certain the boy would be able to take him without significant pain, then climbed over him and nearly slipped inside the open and panting boy. He gave pup several moments to adjust before moving his hips in slow gentle thrusts that slid across pups prostate over and over until his boy was shuddering through another orgasm.
> 
> After finding his own release, David pulled out, untied pup, and rolled the boy over to observe him blissed out and blinking mindlessly before he leaned over the boy and whispered in pup's ear, "only when you behave."
> 
> During the days that followed, pup had almost clung to his every move, desperately attentive, and David took great pleasure in rewarding him every time it was warranted. Of course, over time, he gradually made it harder and harder to achieve his approval, but the lesson - once learned- had stuck and pup had never again shown any doubt that David had the right to control his mind or body - in any way.

"Qayin..." Eli interrupted, bringing David's attention back to the present. "That is the role that I think I shall focus on. Separating you from your 'pup' would be of no use if our people were to believe that I seek to mimic you only to turn the league over to my daughter. Instead let us return you to being the first assassin. Qayin was not Ras Al Ghul, but you can be first among assassins - standing at my side, following my directions." 

"For how long?" David demanded quietly, already suspecting the answer.

"Our people's memories are long." Eli deflected, quietly. But the answer was clear.

Nodding, David superficially agreed to his brother's assessment before he leaned forward and began planning with his brother their first steps on returning. There would be other plans he would make, but until he satisfied his brother's situation, David knew that he would not be free to retrieve his property and return to their former relationship.


End file.
